The Dragon Jewel
by The Avid Musician
Summary: An elf-maid of unusual power attracts attention wherever she goes. Her rank as Thranduil's daughter brings her into contact with Thorin, who cannot seem to forget her even a century after he first saw her. However, her magic attracts the attention of dragons, who know of her as the Dragon Jewel. OC / Thorin, Smaug (later on) Rating change for chp 22 on (Minor edits underway)
1. Chapter 1: A Visit to Erebor

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings. The OCs are my own creation.

Chapter One

"This way, my Lord," a dwarven servant said gruffly, leading the elves further into the sculpted caverns of Erebor from the massive gates.

Their King led the way, flanked by two of his best warriors, Celon and Nenar. The two had proven their worth and their loyalty many times to the king of the Greenwood. The Elven King trusted this pair with his life even now in the halls of the dwarves. His daughter, a young elleth barely considered an adult but already known for her beauty, followed her father. Two more warriors walked at her side, each fully prepared to defend their little princess with their lives. This pair of twins Helluin and Ascar had been personally trained from both Celon and Nenar from nearly the first day they could hold training swords. To them, he had entrusted the safety of his daughter, the light of his life. They knew the grave seriousness of this duty.

In very little time, the party reached the main cavern of Erebor and the walkway that led to the throne and the three generations of dwarves of Durin's line waiting there. Here, his warriors Celon and Nenar fell back a step, allowing their princess to step forward to her father's side. The Elven King extended his hand for his daughter to take so he could lead her along the smooth, stone walkway to the waiting dwarves.

The elf lord could easily sense his daughter's discomfort at being underground in this dark, cavernous mountain. She had grown used to the freedoms that Rivendell had offered and was, even now, still adjusting to her return to her family and her people. To be cut off from the life and energy of the forest was clearly not a healthy situation for her while she was so young, which made her father glad that they would not be staying in the mountain for long. He squeezed his daughter's hand lightly, hoping she would gain some comfort in the small gesture.

The King knew that his son knew less than him about comforting his daughter, a fact that reassured the elf lord that he was first in his daughter's heart, as she was in his. A quick thought went to his son who, for the day, ruled in his stead. His son had adjusted more quickly than she to their return to the Greenwood, rejoining the guard in patrolling the forest to learn more of the realm he would eventually rule.

The elves took a measured pace to approach the throne, each studying their surroundings. Helluin and Ascar watched the dwarves sharply for any threat to their princess while the more seasoned Celon and Nenar studied the mood of those surrounding the King Under the Mountain for signs of duplicity.

Thror sat on the stone throne of Erebor, the Arkenstone set in the stone above his head. His was a forbidding presence. To his left was a taller dwarf with a heavy beard and thick, fur robes. He was clearly not an advisor to the King Under the Mountain, for there was a great resemblance between the two. An honour guard stood behind this dwarf as well as behind the two dwarves to Thror's right, one of which were clearly related to Thror judging by the resemblance. The other was an advisor, judging by his attire, and he held a small chest in his arms, likely containing a gift for the visiting royalty. If he had to venture a guess, Thranduil would say that the robed dwarf was Thror's son Thrain and the other royal dwarf, the one dressed in the rich blues of dwarvish royalty, was Thrain's son Thorin.

Thranduil reached the end of the walkway and halted. He pressed his thumb into his daughter's hand softly, signalling for her to acknowledge the King of Erebor and his family as he had taught her when she was small. Mirilas slowly nodded her head; her eyes, which betrayed her skittish fear, stayed riveted on the dwarves as if she was afraid they would leap from their places and attack her. She had not yet learned to take comfort in her twin guards. Helluin and Ascar would protect her. She had nothing to fear so long as they were near her.

Beside her, Thranduil inclined his head to the King Under the Mountain in acknowledgement. Thror was watching him carefully, seeming to assess him to determine his purpose in coming here. The dwarf lord motioned toward the elves with a large, sturdily-built hand, signalling for his advisor to step forward and offer the chest to the Elven King.

Thranduil stepped forward, briefly releasing his daughter's hand to open the chest before him. Inside the metal chest was a necklace, his mother's necklace, resting on a bed of tiny white gems that shone in the dim light of the caverns. This was a rich gift indeed.

The Elven King nodded again to Thror as he shut the chest. Thror nodded in return before his lips curled up in a cruel smirk. He waved his hand, to which the advisor responded by taking the chest away with a small bow to the other king, removing the possibility that the Sindar elves could recover their heirlooms.

Thranduil's eyes hardened, but he dared not react outwardly. He would not provoke a war with so wealthy and well-defended a realm over so little. Instead, he stepped back to his daughter's side and held his hand out for her to take. She took it immediately, having been watching him closely with her doe-like eyes for clues as to what was expected of her. He knew that her teachers had taught such etiquette to her, but she was still young and lacked the confidence her rank would soon require of her.

"Shall we speak?" Thranduil questioned the dwarf lord, intent on both receiving an explanation for the retracting of this gift and on warning the dwarf of what hazards hoards of gold could bring down on his people.

"Yes," Thror growled with a nod. He quickly waved away his relatives before gesturing for the Elven King to approach.

As Thranduil stepped toward the dwarf on his throne, he subtly motioned to his warriors to close ranks around his daughter. They responded in unison by placing her in the centre of the four of them, hiding the princess from the dwarves' gazes. They would protect her.

The Elven King placed his hands behind his back as he asked the dwarf lord, "What is the meaning of this, Thror?"

"I thought you should see an item in my...collection, Elf King," Thror answered with a dark gleam in his eyes. "Why have you brought the she-elf?" he returned.

"I thought it wise to introduce my daughter to diplomacy between nations. You have served as an abominable example for her," Thranduil shot back.

"Maybe she'll learn what a real man is like and decide to stay," Thror ground out, escalating their insults and, so he thought, pressing his advantage.

Thrnduil clenched his jaw tight as he forced himself not to respond to the clear insult to his daughter. Instead, he said in warning to Thror, "You should check your greed, Dwarf. Amassing your wealth in gold could attract a fire drake."

"That will not happen. This mountain is impregnable," Thror insisted.

"Then you need not worry," Thranduil responded nearly flippantly before he turned to return to his party and thence to his realm.

Neither the King nor his daughter noticed that Thror's grandson had not once moved his eyes from the elf princess since she had arrived. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, a glittering vision of silver and white whose presence seemed to fill all the caverns of the mountain.

* * *

Thorin waled into the room in a daze, feet nearly dragging on the ground. His eyes were glazed over, sightless and dilated as though he was staring into a light rather than the darkness of the corridor.

"Thorin?" Balin called from a doorway down the hall, concerned at his prince's strange behaviour. He hadn't seemed himself since seeing the elves of Mirkwood, both suspicious and worrisome for a dwarf of Thorin's position. However, it was clear that none of the elves had had any opportunity to cast any spells or otherwise tamper with Thorin's mind. No, this dream-like spell of Thorin's was a product of his own mind.

Thorin paused at Balin's call, though he made no move to acknowledge the advisor.

"What ails you, Thorin? You have not been yourself in days," Balin probed.

Thorin turned toward Balin, though his eyes never focused. After a second, Thorin opened his mouth to speak, beginning in a low voice. "I've seen a vision, Balin...the most beautiful sight in all the world...and I can never have her."

Balin paused at Thorin's tone. It was clear that the dwarf prince was not mocking him or playing at emotions he did not truly feel. No. This was different. Thorin had always been stern, but his normal demeanour was nothing compared to the earnest sincerity and seriousness in his gaze. "You can't possibly mean Thranduil's daughter? Thorin! The elf clings to his daughter more tightly than a dragon to treasure!"

"Do you think I do not know that?!" Thorin spat out angrily. His voice cracked, betraying the at sadness he felt.

Balin sighed deeply before saying in resignation, "The heart wants what it wants..."

Thorin's eyes rose sharply at this. "You think she is my One?" he questioned, unclear in heart and in tone what answer he wanted o hear.

Balin took a quick breath in before letting it out slowly as he searched for any answer for his prince. Finally, he said, "I do not know, Thorin. Only you can know that. Do you feel the pull?"

Thorin sighed and looked down. There was no doubt in his heart, though his mind refused to accept what he felt. The dwarf prince looked up at his advisor, no longer caring of Balin's reaction as he said hoarsely, "Yes."


	2. Chapter 2: Dragon Attack

Chapter Two

Thranduil led his army to the top of the hill overlooking Dale and the Mountain. He motioned for his army to stop and gently pulled back on the reigns of his elk, stopping to survey the valley below as it was bathed in fire.

A crowd of dwarves fled from the Mountain, desperately clinging to their few remaining loved ones. These dwarves had just lost their homes, their fortunes, their way of life. Amongst them, Thranduil recognized Thror's grandson waving up to them and calling, "Help us!" Behind the dwarf prince, a burst of fire blew out the gate of Erebor, incinerating many of the fleeing dwarves.

Thranduil froze. A dragon had done this. His face ached at the thought of his last encounter with a fire drake. His face was not the only thing he sacrificed that day to retrieve his daughter. That day, he had retrieved his daughter from the beast but at great cost. So many of his guard still lay dead in that frigid cave in the Grey Mountains north of Gundabad, that ancient wyrm's lair as well as its tomb. None had dared to return to that cave of horrors, not for wealth, not for fame, not to lay loved ones to rest. It stood far too close to the Dragons of the North...

His daughter was safe within the halls of his realm. This dragon had arrived too late to take her from him again.

He could not risk the lives of his people to another dragon.

Thranduil looked down to Thorin as if to convey an understanding of the horror this dragon had wreaked, the sorrow and hardship with which these dwarves were now faced.

The Elven King tilted his head before guiding his elk to turn around and head back home. His army turned and began the march back to the Woodland Realm, to safety.

* * *

Thranduil lounged by his favourite pool, goblet of wine in hand as he considered who should watch over his daughter. He wished very much that he could, but he could not leave the Woodland Realm, not with the current upheaval in Rhovannion at Smaug's arrival.

His first option was her old nurse from the early days after his wife had died: Rigbrethil. She had been most diligent in her care of both of his children, but she was far more experienced with children than a mature elleth.

He could summon any number of his servants that over the years had developed a soft-spot for Mirilas. Half his cooks would cook anything she wanted, even over his own preferences. The stable master had, over the years, learned to leave out little treats for Mirilas to feed the horses and his elk. He had taught her to ride when she was little more than a babe. Many of the members of his guard had, at some point, given Mirilas lessons in archery. Thankfully, they had heeded his order about sparring with her too roughly until she was skilled enough at the sword to defend herself, though he knew many of them would sooner cut off their own limbs than harm her. Each and every one loyal to his daughter, and each one with other duties. He would have to think of someone else.

Then, Thranduil remembered one of his servants that had long trained with both the guard and the healers. He was a bit young, but he was talented and dedicated to his duties. He knew his duties and performed them to the best of his ability. And he was, by all accounts, kind. Yes, Feren would do very nicely for this post.

The Elven King waved a guard over and commanded, "Bring me Feren. I have a task for him."

"Yes, my Lord," the guard responded with a nod before hurrying out to retrieve the servant.

Minutes later, the guard returned with the very servant he wanted. "Feren, I have a job for you," Thranduil said, facing him as he ordered the servant directly for the first time in a long time.

"Anything, my Lord," the servant responded with a bow.

"You will watch over my daughter. Be with her always. See that she does not overexert herself. Your first concern is now and will always be _her_ ," Thranduil said seriously.

"That is a great honour, my Lord," Feren said, swooping into a deep bow of gratitude.

"See that you treat it as such," Thranduil warned ominously. "She leaves for Lothlorien in two days time to train her magic with the Lady Galadriel. See that she arrives safely, then send reports back as she progresses."

Feren bowed and turned to leave his king for his new charge.

"And Feren..." Thranduil called, turning back to his wine.

"Yes, my lord?" the servant asked, turning back to the Elven King.

"Protect her with your life," Thranduil instructed seriously. "That is all."

Feren bowed again and scurried away in search of his princess.


	3. Chapter 3: Two Forests and a Princess

Chapter Three

Legolas swiftly walked to his father's throne to report to him immediately after returning. "Father, can we speak alone?" Legolas asked seriously.

The serious gaze of the Elven King beared down upon Legolas for several tense seconds before Thranduil waved a hand and said, "Leave us."

"Father, something is wrong with the forest," he said as soon as the guards were gone.

Thranduil frowned. He, too, had sensed something, though he was not sure of the nature of the source of it. "What have you seen?" he asked his son.

"The trees look sick, and there are less animals living within our realm," Legolas began. "And..."

"What else?" Thranduil questioned, escending from his throne and walking to stand before his son.

"Spiders," Legolas said. "I saw their webs."

Thranduil nodded and said, "You have done well, my son, in bringing this to me. The guard shall have a new task: keep our lands clear of these spiders."

"We will, Father," Legolas said, nodding in respect to his father before hurrying off to tell the rest of the guard.

Thranduil sighed and held the cool goblet of wine to his forehead for a moment. He could feel the beginnings of a headache, no doubt from the state of his realm.

"My Lord?" one of his advisors asked.

"What is it, Maglor?" Thranduil asked, setting his goblet beside him and looking up to the elf who had once been his father's advisor.

"The Council wishes to know if the reports of spiders in the Greenwood are true," Maglor said, obviously uncomfortable with asking his king something like this. However, he was the Council's chosen intercessor between him and them. This was his job.

Thranduil sighed and said with regret in his tone, "They are true, and there is more. The Greenwood is sick."

"Sick? But, my Lord, what could cause this but-" Maglor began to ask in alarm.

"The darkness of Dol Guldur? Yes, it is that fortress," Thranduil said, shaking his head. That fortress lay far to the south of their borders. There, the forest would always be sick, but before now this sickness had not spread to their lands.

Mirilas would know. She seemed to know instinctively when something was amiss in the forest. Her care for the realm had been a great benefit. Why did he have to send her away? Why did the dragon have to claim Erebor, so very close to their realm?

* * *

Mirilas peered between the backs of the wardens guiding her to the top of the staircase. There was a large flet set into a great mallorn's branches. This had to be it, right? They had walked for so long, it seemed, since they passed the gates of Caras Galadon. This seemed to be the largest mallorn in the city, and the flet the largest in the tree. This would be where she would meet the Lord and Lady, she hoped.

The two wardens stepped to either side at the landing of the staircase, motioning her and her retinue forward. Suddenly, she was glad of her new companion's presence. When Feren had been assigned to her by her father, she had been unsure what to make of him. Now, however, he had proven himself in their journey to be a welcome companion, skilled in all manner of tasks and a good, if formal, conversationalist.

The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood strode across the flet to meet the princess of the Woodland Realm.

"My lady-" Mirilas began nervously, nodding her head as her father had taught her to acknowledge other rulers.

"Galadriel, Child," the Lady of Light corrected gently.

"Galadriel," Mirilas said. She then turned to Galadriel's lord and said, "My lord."

"Celeborn, my girl," the lord corrected with a gentle smile, reaching out to take the nervous princess's hand comfortingly. "You are most welcome here, Mirilas," Celeborn assured her.

"And I hope to learn much," Mirilas said, starting to gain confidence.

"You will," Galadriel said evenly. "But your training must centre around expanding your power."

Mirilas nodded, hoping she understood just what she was getting herself into.

"I am sure you will do well," Celeborn assured her.

"Come with me. I am sure you have questions," Galadriel said, leading the princess away by taking her hand in a maternal hold.

Mirilas paused briefly to say, "My men..."

"I will look after them, my lady," one of the wardens said from the other side of the flet, placing a hand over his heart and nodding to her.

"Thank you," Mirilas said, pausing as she did not know this warden's name.

"Haldir," Celeborn supplied.

"Haldir," Mirilas repeated, nodding first to the warden, then to Feren and her two guards Helluin and Ascar. They had protected her since she journeyed to Imladris over a century ago. She had been a child then.

Galadriel gently squeezed Mirilas' hand, signalling for her to follow. She led Mirilas to an attached flet, this one with partitions up to act as walls, blocking the rest of the city from sight.

"Now, your questions," Galadriel prompted once they were settled inside.

Mirilas bit her lip for a second, stopping as if the gather herself before asking, "Why do I sleep so much more than other elves?"

"You are a young sorceress, Mirilas. Your body needs the sleep so that your powers can grow," Galadriel explained gently.

"Will I ever be normal?" Mirilas asked sadly, barely comforted by the explanation.

Galadriel placed a hand on the princess's back and said gently, "No. You are a princess and a sorceress. You will never be normal. You are meant for greatness."

Mirilas nodded, trying to gather what little strength remained to her after their lesson.

"Do not let this deter you, Mirilas. You will sleep normally after your magic matures," Galadriel comforted the girl, aware of how hard the transition to Caras Galadhon had been for the girl whose only other experience of being away from her family was being kidnapped by a dragon. Even when she had journeyed to Imladris to learn the nature of her power, her brother had accompanied her. Now, it seemed, she was alone.


	4. Chapter 4: 100 Years of Training Later

Chapter Four

Galadriel paused from walking through her little garden kept in a little clearing where the sky could be seen through the cannopy of mallorn trees. She had not felt the pull to her mirror in some time, though this was not entirely odd during peacetimes. But, the elf lady could feel the change in the world, the darkness seeping in from the void to pollute the peace for which they had fought so hard.

Galadriel turned and hurried to her mirror as the pull grew and grew in strength, pulling her ever stronger toward the mirror. This was not the pull of some minor event requiring her attention in only the most minor of capacities as had been the case for several hundred years. No. Something was happening. Something big.

The elven lady hurriedly grasped her vase to pour water into the mirror, nearly spilling it in her haste. Nearly the second there was water in her mirror, Galadriel was peering into it, opening her mind to the mirror and its connection to time.

What she saw more than simply confused her, it astonished and confounded her. If this future were to happen, much would be different with the coming darkness. Her young charge could save or destroy the future toward which the Free Peoples had worked. She knew what she had to do.

* * *

Legolas sighed as he studied the nest of webs for this new group of spiders. They had destroyed another nest here less than two months ago, but the spiders kept travelling north from Dol Guldur. There would be no end to this if they did not destroy where the spiders spawned. And his father would not allow that because it was not within their borders. On this point, he was adamant.

"Ernil nin!" (My prince!) one of the guards called, "I ungoil cheba anfangrim!" (The spiders have a company of dwarves!)

"Gurtho i ungoil. Hebo i anfangrim," (Kill the spiders. Capture the dwarves.) Legolas commanded, stepping away from the webs to run up into the trees and follow his party to the spiders and their dwarven meals. He and his guards attacked.

In mere minutes, the spiders were dead and the dwarves surrounded by his guards. "Search them," Legolas commanded, jumping down from a tree limb to peer at the dwarves curiously. His sister had seen dwarves when she accompanied their father to Erebor before the Mountain was taken. He, however, had not had any contact with dwarves.

These dwarves seemed more foul than he had expected, though that was partially due to being covered in spider webs. Still, they smelled. Their long beards seemed strange and unkempt to the elf prince, and their clothes were rough and bulky. How strange they seemed to him!

The dwarves' weapons were quickly taken from them, though the blonde dwarf seemed to have a number of hidden knives and daggers. Several personal possessions were discovered, as well. Legolas plucked a silver box from the coat of the nearest dwarf, this one with a robust red beard and a long, untrimmed mustache.

"Give it back! That's private!" the dwarf protested as Legolas opened the little, silver box, revealing two drawn portraits. They looked hideous to the elf.

"What is this? Your brother?" Legolas asked, wondering what a dwarf woman would look like.

"That is my wife!" the dwarf protested indignantly. Well, that answered what dwarven women look like. Bearded...The dwarves truly were strange creatures.

Legolas peered at the second picture, bearded like the other but rougher of face. "What is this? A goblin mutant?" he asked.

"That's my wee lad Gimli," the dwarf said, eyes locked upon the little portrait case.

Legolas tucked the portrait case back into the dwarf's coat. He could keep his pictures of bearded relatives. Dwarves really were short and ugly, as his father had told him. The elf prince briefly wondered what his sister had thought of them after her first and to his knowledge only experience with dwarves. She had left before they could do more than say good-bye.

The elf prince's ears pricked as he heard Tauriel approaching. She had broken off from the group, a decision which had served them well as the spiders had done the same.

"Gurthan ungoil bain?" (Are the spiders dead?) Legolas asked her as she approached him.

"In orthair gwannon ungol an urin," (Yes, but more will come.) she said, voicing what he already knew. For years now they had been killing the spiders as they travelled up from Dol Guldur. Each time the solved the problem only briefly. More would come. "En daer nan," (They're growing bolder.) she continued.

"Legolas!" one of the guards called.

"Im golodh," (I know) he said seriously to the captain before turning to the guard Arahad that had called him.

"Man na si?" (What is it, Arahad?) he asked, walking over to Arahad.

Wordlessly, Arahad handed Legolas a sword. He had seen this quality of sword before. "Sen hannen ne megil en vin Gondolin," (This is a sword made in Gondolin,) Legolas said, looking over the stunning workmanship of the sword admiringly. "Man gannen en milui," (Forged by my kin) he continued, testing the weight of it. "Where did you get this?" he questioned an older black-haired dwarf, the one that had been carrying the elvish blade.

"It was given to me," the dwarf answered. That was clearly a lie.

Legolas quickly set the tip of the blade at the dwarf's throat and said, "Not just a thief, but a liar as well." The elf prince quickly moved the blade to simply hold it in his hand as he commanded his guards, "Enwenno hain!" (Take them back!)

His father would deal with these trespassers and thieves, assuming he wasn't in another of his moods.

* * *

"You must return, little one," Galadriel said to her.

"Why? Has something happened?" Mirilas asked apprehensively. Her heart had quickened both at the idea of seeing her home again after over a century of training and at the thought of either her father or her brother being hurt or killed.

"No. Calm yourself, young one. Your family is well. It is the Greenwood. It has become sick," the Lady of Light explained.

"What? How is that possible unless-"

"Unless the darkness has returned," Galadriel finished seriously.

"The fortress..." Mirilas whispered in recognition. If there was evil creeping into the Woodland Realm, it would be based at Dol Guldur.

Galadriel nodded to the much younger elf.

"But what can I do against it?" Mirilas questioned.

"All this time and you are still unsure of yourself," Galadriel lamented before asking, "Have you not been studying the shields that keep this forest as it is?"

Mirilas' eyes flicked up to Galadriel's as she realized what she must do. "Where do I begin?" she asked in growing determination.

"You know the spell, but it will do you no good. You shielded the Greenwood long before you even realized that your gifts were magic," Galadriel said knowingly.

Mirilas thought back to when she was a child. Whenever she was out in the forest, the very air seemed to recognize her presence. The trees had been stalward guardians to her childhood games, standing tall and strong above her as she played with her brother and her father. That connection had been there all along. She had been protecting the forest. Mirilas nodded, accepting this. "I will try to save the forest."

"Good," Galadriel said as she strode to the door to the flet. "Now how would you like to try teleporting farther?"

"How far?" Mirilas asked half eagerly and half in suspicion of what Galadriel meant.

"The Greenwood," Galadriel said, confirming her suspicions. "You will take Feren with you. I will send Helluin and Ascar back after you."

"But I have never travelled so far," Mirilas protested worriedly, not sure if, despite her training, she had enough power to teleport both herself and Feren so far.

"You have done well at short ranges. It is time you pushed yourself further. You should return to your family," Galadriel insisted.

"Why now?" Mirilas questioned. "And why so quickly?"

Galadriel turned back to the elleth to say vaguely, "You have a part to play in the events to come."


	5. Chapter 5: Teleportation is Tricky

Chapter Five

"You know the plan?" Mirilas asked her two guards.

"Yes, my lady," Helluin reponded with a nod.

"Then I will see you when you return to the Greenwood," Mirilas assured them with a slightly apprehensive smile.

"Yes, my lady," Helluin acknowledged.

"Please, be careful, my friends. There are many dangers between here and home," Mirilas asked, looking at them worriedly.

"Do not worry for us, my lady. Have a care for yourself," Ascar said, betraying the concern both he and his twin felt for their lady attempting such a dangerous spell while she was still so young and untested (relative to Galadriel or any of the Istari).

Mirilas huffed a good-natured sigh at their care before laughing lightly and saying, "I will see you there."

Both Helluin and Ascar bowed their heads, each placing a hand over their heart. Silently, the two guards left for the stables to get mounts for their much longer journey back.

"Are you sure about this, my Lady?" Feren asked, looking with anxiety to Mirilas.

"Do you have so little confidence in me, Feren?" Mirilas asked in return, only half serious.

"Never, my lady. I am only concerned for your safety," the servant assured her.

"Learning magic does not come without risk, Feren. Think of how useful I could make myself to _Ada_ once I master this," (Father) Mirilas said with a smile, looking up from the ancient tome for the first time.

"You are already useful to the King. You maintain the illusion on his face, my lady, and you are his beloved daughter," Feren assured her. Despite having gained confidence through her training, Mirilas did not see her own worth at times.

"That enchantment will remain even if I am no more. I know I can do more than that with my gifts if you will only allow me the opportunity," Mirilas reasoned with him.

Feren sighed heavily and said, "Very well, my lady."

After offering a smile to her friend, Mirilas read the incantation. As she felt the power of her magic flow through her, she tried to think of her room, but thoughts of her Ada would not leave her. She felt a sudden lurch as her magic swiftly changed course.

Her feet seemed to slam into the ground, forcing her to weakly regain her balance. Her energy sapped, Mirilas looked dizzily around to see where she had landed. She saw her father's surprised face and called out to him before the world faded into darkness. She was with her Ada. She was safe.

* * *

"Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk...Thorin, you seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The King's Jewel, the Arkenstone. 'Tis precious to you beyond measure...I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I, too, desire: white gems of pure starlight... I offer you my help." Thranduil bowed his head as he closed his eyes. He quickly flicked his eyes back open to look at Thorin. This dwarf prince would know of what he spoke, though he would not know how precious that necklace was to him. He only knew that the necklace had been denied to him the one and only time he had yet entered the Lonely Mountain.

"I am listening," Thorin rumbled with a strange smile.

"I will let you go if you but return what is mine," Thranduil offered. He thought the offer was quite generous. It was not the best he could offer, but they were dwarves, not elves. He would not trust them as he would trust his kin.

"A favour for a favour," Thorin said as he turned his back to walk a short distance from Thranduil to the edge of the stairs.

"You have my word. One king to another," the elven king offered in his mind generously by calling Thorin a king.

"I would not trust _Thranduil_ , Great King, to honour his _word_ should the end of all days be upon us! You, who lack all honour! I have seen how you treat your friends! We came to you once. Starving! Homeless! Seeking your help! You turned your back! You turned away from the suffering of my people! The inferno that destroyed us! IMRID AMLAD ALZUL!"

"Do not talk to me of dragon fire! I know its wrath and ruin. I have faced the great serpents of the North!" As he spoke, a horrible scar revealed itself on one side of Thranduil's face. It was a horrible injury inflicted by dragon fire. The dwarf prince had not known that Thranduil had dealt with a dragon before Smaug.

Before either of them could say another inflammatory word, a young elleth gowned in green with hair like starlight appeared beside them with a rather short and more simply dressed elf behind her. The elleth swayed on her feet as she looked around herself to gain her bearings, seeming relieved by what she saw. Thorin jumped back in alarm even as he recognized her and remembered her. Thranduil's head snapped up to look at her, and his eyes filled with tender emotion as he saw her. When her eyes met Thranduil's, she called weakly, "Ada!" Before she could say more, she collapsed to into the arms of the other elf, unconscious.

As Thranduil rushed to her and tenderly lifted her from the arms of his servant, Thorin thought back to when he had seen her before. She had come to Erebor with her father. He could not forget her face. His One had only grown even more beautiful even in her distressed state.

"To the cells with this one," Thranduil said with an almost uninterested nod toward Thorin, blue eyes never leaving the elleth he carefully cradled with tender hands. Thorin had a fleeting, though strong, desire to be the one holding her close, to cherish her as she deserved to be cherished.

As the guards hauled the dwarf away to his fellows in the cells, Thorin watched speculatively as Thranduil hurried away with the beautiful, though clearly exhausted elleth. The dwarf knew something of how she had arrived. She had power.

Thranduil worriedly carried the elleth to her room, saying as he left, "Feren, a healer. Quickly!"


	6. Chapter 6: Home at Last

Chapter Six

The elven soldiers shoved Thorin into one of the cells and closed the door. The Keeper of the Keys stepped forward to lock him in before they left, leaving the dwarves to their incarceration with a chuckle. There was no love lost between dwarves and elves.

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin questioned, peering through the bars of his cell to Thorin's beside his.

"He did. I told him to go _ish khak ve on dokhol nur,_ him and all his kin!" Thorin said, yelling the end in the vain hope that the Elven King would hear him as his yell echoed through the corridors. It did not occur to him that this statement included Mirilas.

"Oh. That's that, then," Balin said in bemusement, almost having expected this outcome due to Thorin's pride and stubbornness. His tone turned despairing as he said, "A deal was our only hope."

"Not our only hope," Thorin whispered, looking out of his cell at the passages beyond. "Bilbo," he said softly to Balin, reminding the elderly dwarf of the hobbit that had not been captured by the elves.

Balin nodded sagely as he remembered that none of their Company had seen Bilbo since the elves had shown up. "Bilbo," he echoed. Balin clearly hoped that the hobbit was inside the halls. If not, there would be no escape for them.

"Balin, do you remember when _that_ elf came to Erebor?" Thorin asked his advisor, unwilling to speak the Elf King's name again when his fury was still so fresh. Instead, he hinted at who he meant, choosing instead to focus on being near Mirilas again.

"Aye," Balin answered, not sure where this line of questioning was going. Balin had been among those that welcomed the Elven King at the gate of Erebor.

"Do you remember an elf-girl he brought with him?" Thorin continued.

"Aye. His daughter, a nice, little elf-maid by all accounts," Balin said, recalling how the servants had spoken of both her and her father for days after their visit. While her father had been largely uninterested in the dwarves, the elven princess had been kind and courteous to the servants her party had encountered in Erebor. "Did you see her?" Balin asked, already sure why Thorin would mention the elf princess now. He had hoped that Thorin would give up this foolish thought that Thranduil's daughter was his One. Clearly, this was not the case.

"Aye, Balin. She appeared in the hall out of thin air," Thorin said, watching his advisor for his reaction with overly dilated pupils, even for the relative darkness surrounding them.

Balin's eyes went wide. "You mean- does she have _magic_?" Balin asked in a fluster. He had thought that only those elves with one of the Rings had magic. Apparently, magical ability was somewhat more natural and common in elves than in any of the other races.

"Yes, I think she does," Thorin said, leaning back against the wall of his cell to ruminate.

"Do you remember her well, Thorin?" Balin asked, looking back over at his king.

"Oh, I remember her, Balin... She was...is...the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Thorin said softly as he saw before his eyes the elleth as she had looked in the halls of his father, where he believed she belonged.

Balin looked over at Thorin, bemused at the revelation of Thorin's continued attentions to Thranduil's daughter. It concerned him that such tender sentiment for the elf-maid could co-exist with such hatred for her father.

* * *

Feren rushed into his lady's room with a healer close behind. He swept into a hasty bow, knowing that Thranduil would be at his lady's side, before saying to the Elven King, "She tried to teleport here, my Lord."

"That was very foolish," Thranduil said, sending a glance at Feren as if to accuse him of being at fault for not stopping her. In a way, this was his fault. The Elven King had expressly commanded him to look after his lady's health, yet here she was overworked and exhausted. He would not protest to his king that the Lady Galadriel had told Mirilas to teleport to the Woodland Realm. How could he, a servant, go against Lady Galadriel about his lady's health? "Whose idea was it for her to appear in the throne room?" he asked.

"She had aimed to appear here," Feren said regretfully before realising what her landing in the throne room must have meant. The servant asked apprehensive, "Did she interrupt something, my Lord?"

"I am more worried about my daughter at present than a stubborn dwarf, Feren. Go see to it that she has proper food waiting when she wakes," Thranduil said dismissively without even looking up at him. What were dwarves doing here in the Woodland Realm? There were easier, safer ways to travel between the Iron Hills and the Blue Mountains, so why would a dwarf deliberately pass through this forest unless...Unless they were on their way to Erebor.

Feren reluctantly bowed and left. Despite his lady being left with her father, whom she had missed so much while under Galadriel's tutelage, Feren did not want to leave her in such a state. For all these long years, he had cared for his lady through the many ups and downs of her training in magic. He knew how best to help her recover her strength. He knew when she needed comfort or nourishment or sleep. She needed him right now, but not as much as she needed her father. Her needs were more important than his own, would always be more important than his own. She was a princess, and he was her servant.

* * *

"Where is my father?" Legolas asked one of the guards stationed by his father's empty throne. This was a perfect vantage point from which to keep watch on the gate. They could see when anyone arrived and would be able to warn the people long before any intruders could do any real harm.

"The King went to your lady sister's chambers, my prince," the guard answered respectfully.

Legolas sighed and turned, allowing his feet to lead him along the familiar path to his sister's room. In the century that his sister had been gone, his father had retreated to her room whenever his heart's longing for his precious daughter grew too painful for him to bear. Each time this happened, he would be inconsolable, taking refuge in wine to dull the gnawing wound of Mirilas' absence. During these times, it was like his mother had died again.

However, his father was expected at the feast of Merethen Giliath the following night. Legolas only hoped that Thranduil recovered from this episode of sorrow in time to make a proper showing at the feast for their subjects. It would not due for him to drunkenly berate everyone with which he spoke at the feast.

Legolas stopped in front of the door to his sister's chambers, laying his forehead against the intricately carved wood to gather strength before facing his father. He, too, missed his sister, but he would not make a spectacle of himself in his grief. As he did this, Legolas heard a sound through the door. It sounded like there was someone with his father, but Thranduil never allowed anyone, even him, into Mirilas' rooms when he was like this. Something was not right.

Legolas opened the door and could have sobbed in relief at the sight with which he was met. Mirilas lay asleep in her bed with his father at her side, holding one of her hands tenderly. A healer stood above the pair, packing his equipment into a bag to return to the Healing Chambers.

"She's back," Legolas whispered as he smiled at his sister and his father.

Thranduil briefly looked up, nodding at his son and gesturing for him to join them with his free hand before turning back to stroke the elleth's hair tenderly. Legolas would always feel awkward when he was present with them both. She was their father's favourite child, leaving him to bear the weight of being the heir to the throne and the expectations that entailed. Regardless of this, he loved her dearly.

The healer brushed past Legolas and out the door, stirring the elf prince from his thoughts. As he joined his father to sit at his sister's bedside, Thranduil told him, "She teleported with Feren to the Hall from Lorien."

Legolas looked up sharply at his father with disbelief before resting his eyes on his sister, proud that her power had grown so much while she was gone. The elf prince reached out to smooth a hand over her arm that rested atop the covers, reassuring himself that she was really there, that his father could return to who he was before she left. His father's mood had been far too unstable this past century.

Legolas said quietly as he rested his hand over his sister's forearm, "The spiders had the dwarves in their nest, but something set them free from the webs. The spiders are all dead and their nest destroyed...Tauriel was particularly effective today."

"Good," Thranduil said with a small nod, signalling the conclusion of their business. Now, they could be a family.


	7. Chapter 7: She Wakes

Chapter Seven

"Do not worry, my Lord. She will sleep as long as she needs," a voice said, clearly attempting to pacify someone. A healer?

"Do you know when that is?" a familiar voice asked, sounding worried. She knew that voice, but how?

"No, my lord. I can stay with her, if you wish? You shall be notified as soon as she wakes," the healer assured the other.

"No. I will stay with her," the second voice commanded, sounding closer than before. "Leave me." This voice was deep and comforting, even with a cold tone.

"Very well, my lord," the healer said. There were footsteps, growing fainter. A door opening and then closing.

The rustle of fabric. A warm hand clasping her own. Another warm hand joining it to cup her hand. Warm breath on her ear. "Sleep well, my daughter. I will be here when you wake," the comforting voice assured her, speaking lowly into her ear.

Her breath caught. She did know the voice! It was her father! Why could she not move? She was home! She was awake! She had to show him!

Finally, her lips moved, allowing her to whisper, "Ada..." (Father...)

In under a seconds, one of the hands had left her hand, seeming to fly to her face, where it cupped her cheek gently. "Mirilas, sellath nin, non si." (Mirilas, my daughter, I am here.)

Mirilas tried her hardest to squeeze her father's hand, only managing a small amount of pressure, but he had felt it. Her father squeezed her hand in return before bringing it to his lips to press a reassuring kiss to her fingers.

"Na hanar si?" she asked weakly, struggling to open her eyes.

"Non si, nethig," (I am here, little sister) her brother's voice reassured her from the other side of her. She felt more hands, one clasping her shoulder and the other taking her hand in an eager grasp.

"Edro lye hin lin?" (Can you open your eyes?) her brother nearly pleaded.

Mirilas tried again to open her eyes, finally succeeding. Thankfully, her room was dimly lit. It must be night. Only then did the caverns take on such a glow.

She was in her room, in her bed. She had missed the feel of her sheets, her blankets, though not nearly so much s she had missed her family. She was home.

Her father and brother were on either side of her, each clutching a hand. Her cheek felt cold as her father moved his hand to tangle it in her hair. "Man plada lye?" (How do you feel?) her father asked as he combed his fingers through her hair as he had since she was very little.

"Lom. Lhaew... Bar."(Tired. Weak...Home.) Mirilas said, attempting to blink away her weariness.

"Idh, nethig. Min tirathar lye," (You can sleep, sister. We will watch over you.) her brother said softly.

"Daro," (Wait) she urged them, trying with every bit of strength she had to push off the urge to sleep again. She had to tell them. This could not wait, even if she could do nothing until she was stronger. "Le baur golodh sen." (You must know this.)

"Man?" (What?) Legolas asked gently, urging her to continue.

"Ten darathar," (It can wait,) their father, seeing the weariness that seemed to permeate her entire being. There were few things indeed for which he would forestall her recovery.

"Golodhon an i Erin Galen athair!" (I know why the Greenwood is sick!) she said, her voice gaining a little strength.

Thranduil sighed. She had only just arrived, and already she could sense the sickness of the forest. The Elven King placed a hand on her cheek and said to her seriously, "I fuin loathant Dol Guldurello, Mirilas, ar met udara i loa!" (The darkness has been growing from Dol Guldur, Mirilas, but there is nothing we can do!)

Mirilas stopped him, shaking her head briefly. "Uar," (No) she whispered. "Thanden i erin i lumbulegulello. Ennathon thand," (I kept the forest shielded from the dark before. I can do it again.) she said in determination.

Both brother and father looked speculative for several seconds, each realizing that the forest had degraded only after she had left. Legolas could not help but draw a comparison between the forest's decline and his fathe's decline in his sister's absence.

Thranduil smiled in relief and pride and kissed his daughter's forehead. "Isten i eryn gurthadim ulye, tithen nin," (I thought the forest seemed to mourn your absence, my little one) he said fondly.

Legolas said with hope as he reached out to embrace his sister where she lay, "Lye edraith i erin!" (You can save the forest!)

"Na, uar idhathar erui," (Yes, but I need to rest first) Mirilas said, closing her eyes and bowing to the demands for sleep her body was making.

"Idho maer, sellath nin," (Sleep well, my daughter) their father said softly as she sank back into a restful sleep.

* * *

"Dol Guldur, the Hill of Sorcery," Gandalf said, peering up at the old fortress through the twisted, dead trees.

"It looks completely abandoned," Radagast commented.

"As it is meant to," Gandalf returned, recognizing the disguise for what it was. "A spell of concealment lies on this place," Gandalf explained, "Which means that our enemy is not yet ready to reveal himself. He has not regained his full strength."

Gandalf turned to look very seriously at his fellow wizard. "I must ask you to carry a message to the Lady Galadriel. Tell her: we must force his hand."

"You mean-" Radagast began to ask, not believing that Gandalf would walk into so dangerous a place.

"Once you have carried the message the Lady, you must go to the Woodland Realm. We need the young sorceress Mirilas," Gandalf continued.

"But are you-" Radagast began to ask again.

"I will go in alone," Gandalf confirmed. He bent in further to impress upon Radagast, "On no account come in after me."

Radagast glanced at the fortress in apprehension before returning to his sled and his rabbits.

"Do I have your word?" Gandalf called to Radagast as he continued to watch the fortress in speculation.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," Radagast said dismissively without looking back.

After heaving in a deep breath, Gandalf walked down to the bridge.

"Wait, Gandalf!" Radagast called after his friend.

Gandalf paused along the bridge.

"What if it's a trap?" Radagast asked.

"Turn around, and do not come back," Gandalf instructed his friend before saying more quietly, "It's undoubtedly a trap."

* * *

Mirilas slowly opened her eyes to the light shining into her room from the shaded window set into the far wall. It was a bright, autumn morning, and she was home.

She took in a deep breath as she stretched her arms before slowly rolling onto her side, feeling already much stronger than when last she woke. Only then did she notice her brother gazing down at her from a chair beside her bed with a book lying open on his lap. "Maer aur, nethig," (Good morning, sister) he said serenely as he closed his book and set it aside before leaning forward in his chair. "Pladam maer?" (Feeling better?) he asked as his hands moved to smooth the stray locks from her face.

"Ubelt, uar maera," (Not strong, but better) she answered as she moved to take one of his hands in hers. "Buinen le, hanar nin," (I have missed you, my brother) she assured him as she gripped his hand.

"Ar im le," (And I you) he returned with a smile before reclaiming his hand to retrieve her robe from it's place in the wardrobe for the past century. He laid the robe over the back of his chair before helping his sister to sit up in bed and move to the edge of the bed. Now, as he helped her with what should be a simple task, he could see just how weak the spell had left her curiously vacant expression. In the new silence no longer marred by the sounds of fabric shifting, the siblings heard footsteps tracing a path back and forth in the corridor. He had forgotten of his sister's caretaker. The poor ellon had been pacing the hallway just in front of her door for almost as long as he had been watching over his sister's rest this night.

"Feren," Legolas said lightly as he sank down to sit beside her on the bed.

His sister smiled fondly at him before turning her head to call softly toward the door, "Feren?"

The elf's reaction was almost instantaneous. The door opened rather abruptly, and Feren hurried into the room as he said, "My lady! You have woken!"

Mirilas smiled gently at him and said, "Yes. mellon nin." (my friend)

"Feren, would you please get my sister something to eat?" Legolas asked, wrapping his arm around her waist as she began to lean into his side for support.

"Of course, my Lord," Feren said with a quick bow before leaving, seeming at the same time reluctant to leave and eager to serve.

Once the door was closed, Legolas shifted his sister to prop her up against the wall in bed. He tenderly adjusted her robe to lay over her legs before rising to lay out a dress for her.

"What would you like to wear?" he asked as he opened her wardrobe to look through her gowns.

Mirilas turned her head to look over at the wardrobe she had not seen for a century. These gowns seemed to be but a distant memory compared to her time with her father and brother. There were gowns of blue, silver, green, and every colour of which she could think. What did they matter when she was finally home? "You choose," she said, offering a thin smile to her brother.

As her brother fished through the gowns, Mirilas watched her brother carefully while asking, "How has Tauriel been?"

Legolas stilled instantly as his head shot up so that he could look at his sister with wide eyes. "Why do you ask?" he asked, attempting to hide the emotion in his voice.

"You were fond of her when I left," Mirilas said with a playful grin on her face.

"W-what do you mean?" Legolas asked, a quaver in his voice.

"You know very well what I mean, hanar. I am your sister. I know you well enough to know when you are in love," (brother) Mirilas responded easily as she laid her head against the wall as gently as she could manage.

Legolas quickly grabbed the dress in his hands and laid it over the back of the chair beside her bed as he returned to his sister's side. He took one of her hands in his but refused to meet her eyes as he admitted quietly, "I love her."

Mirilas sat up from her lax stance against the wall to hug her brother. "I knew it," she said happily before assuring him, "You can trust me with this."

Before either of them could say any more, the door swung open again, this time allowing an elleth into the princess's room. "Isn't that sweet? My two little elflings having a reunion," she said in a sweet tone.

The siblings broke away as Mirilas said, "Mae govannen, Rigbrethil." (Hello)

"'Mae govannen'? Is that all I get, Child, after how long you have been gone?" Rigbrethil asked as she hurried over to the siblings to sweep Mirilas up in a warm hug.

"I missed you, too, Rigbrethil," the little princess responded before pressing her face into the older elleth's shoulder. Rigbrethil had raised her as much as her father after her mother's untimely death.

"Le na vana autant," (You are more beautiful than ever) Rigbrethil returned, making her fondness for Mirilas evident. The nurse squeezed her close one more time before breaking away from her former charge to scold him lightly, "What are you still doing in here, Legolas? Your sister needs to change! Go out in the hall!"

Legolas chuckled a little, slightly in disbelief that the nurse would address him thusly and accepting of her at the same time. This was, after all, the woman that had raised them while their father was busy doing his royal duty. Legolas rose from his seat on his sister's bed to wait in the hall as requested, much as Feren had been waiting before his sister had woken.

As the door closed behind him, Rigbrethil plucked the robe from Mirilas' shoulders and began to undress her while launching into what she deemed to be the important news of the Woodland Realm from the last century.

"You remember that cook Belthil that gave you little pastries after lunch? He started making pastries every day for Heledh, your maid, and he finally approached her last year! They have mated! And, there is Fennas, the guard with the two missing fingers. He has been lusting after Leuca, the woman that cleans the library, but Leuca has been trying to catch the attention of Nenar, your father's guard. But, you know Nenar is mated to Quetta, the seamstress. But, Heledh heard Leuca talking with Gelin, your brother's lieutenant. Heledh said that Leuca said that Gelin wanted to mate to Leuca, but Orithil still loves Gelin and still will not admit it. And-"

Rigbrethil was interrupted in her avalanche of rumours by a knock at the door. Instantly, Mirilas' hands flew to her chest only to realise that as the nurse had talked her ear off, she had slipped the dress on her. There was nothing to shield, for she was completely dressed.

"Come in!" Mirilas called, turning toward the door as Rigbrethil reached for her hair.

Legolas strode into the room followed closely by Feren, who held a small tray of fruit in his hands. As Feren brought the food to his mistress, Legolas moved to sit near his sister, prepared to wait until Rigbrethil thought she was ready.

As the nurse began to braid Mirilas' hair, she continued to tell the siblings rumour after rumour of who was in love with whom and who had mated with whom. Mirilas listened closely at first, but her attention began to waver as she enjoyed the feeling of her nurse's fingers working through her hair as lock by lock she braided the platinum strands together.

Mirilas was started from this lull as Rigbrethil's hands stilled. The elf princess looked up from where she had been absently staring at her hands in her lap to see her father striding toward her, gesturing for the nurse to leave. While both siblings were fond of Rigbrethil, they were also glad that her presence was being replaced by their father. He knew when to be silent.

"You have duties, do you not, Legolas?" their father asked evenly before Rigbrethil shut the door.

Legolas sighed and rose to his feet, quickly promising his sister, "I will see you later today," before he followed the nurse out. He had not meant to avoid his duties. Apparently, not even the return of his sister was important enough for him to gain even an hour's reprieve from his duties to spend with his sister.

"Ni le maan hi aur, mirig nin?" (How are you feeling this morning, my little jewel?) Thranduil asked as he strode over to her.

"Maan," (good) she tried to assure him. However, her body betrayed her. She tried to stand to embrace her father, but her legs collapsed under her, refusing to hold her weight. Thranduil caught her before she could hit the floor, but instead of placing her back on the bed, he scoopedher up into his arms, holding her as effortlessly as when she was a baby.

"Indon le golodhad vior, Miri," (I think you should just read today, Miri) he said gently. "Aniriel le dartha sinome uar?" (Would you like to sit somewhere else?)

"Usi," (Not here) she responded, resting her head against her father's chest.

He chuckled lightly as he strode out of her room and down the corridor, motioning with his head as he passed for Feren to follow them.


	8. Chapter 8: A Hobbit Among Elves

Chapter Eight

Outside of the salon in which he had left his daughter earlier that morning, Thranduil quickly dismissed Feren from his post in the room to stay out in the corridor. Feren nodded in acknowledgement and hurried outside. He could not go far because Mirilas was too weak from the journey to do much more than sit and read.

Thranduil paused at the door, looking across the room to the beautiful, young elleth that so resembled her mother. His heart clenched as he saw her platinum hair‒ even lighter than the silver of his robe, he noted in admiration‒ swept back into the same braids his wife once wore, partially concealing her green eyes, the same forest green of his wife's eyes and the colour of her flowing gown. His little blossom was nearly an elleth, though in years she was already mature. Mirilas turned the page of her thick, magical tome, her thin fingers smoothing down the page before stroking along an incantation. Pride welled in his chest at his daughter's magical curiosity and ability.

Thranduil downed his wine in a silent toast to his beloved daughter before setting his goblet on a nearby table and crossing the room to sit by his daughter's side.

"Ada," (Father) Mirilas said warmly, recognizing the comforting presence of her father.

Thranduil kissed her forehead and said, "Rinan golodhen le ilye du. Gocaitin bo im, a hanar gin hafant arim ve nalye si. A ye chebent i parf am ah camlann miw gin." (I remember when I read to you every night. You would cuddle on my lap, and your brother would sit next to me just like you are now and help keep the book in your tiny hands.) These memories of him with his children were some of his most precious memories along with his memories of his wife.

"Ada," Mirilas sighed, laying her head on her father's shoulder. "Ugulneni angol,"(I was not studying magic, yet) she reminded him. When she had been young, none of them had known that she had capabilities beyond the norm.

"Galadriel golnen maan, or idhrinn anann," (Galadriel has taught you well, these long years) Thranduil observed, remembering how she had teleported over so great a distance. While he was grateful to the Lady of the Golden Wood for training his daughter, he was more glad that she was back.

She desperately wanted to simply enjoy this moment, but she had to try again. "Uk. elim lye egor hanar, uar..." (I do not want to leave you or Brother, but...)

"Sellath nin, lye ucelo. i erin una band," (My daughter, you do not need to go. It is not safe) Thranduil said, hoping to convince her to stay. His hand moved to her hair to further reassure her of this. She did not need to leave again. He did not know if his heart could bear it so soon after she had returned.

Just as Mirilas' eyes drooped closed, she sensed a change in her surroundings. Mirilas felt a shift in the energy around her. Galadriel had helped her to understand that this was how she sensed someone's approach.

"Penna si," (Someone is here) Mirilas whispered. As her father's hand stilled in her hair, Mirilas' eyes remained closed in concentration. She listened intently for the footsteps that would betray any non-elf. To her surprise, there were footsteps, though they were so soft she could hardly hear them. Who was here?

Thranduil took control of the situation, calling out to the person intruding on this moment with his daughter, "I know you are there. Why do you linger in the shadows?"

"I was coming to report to you, my Lord," Tauriel said, walking briskly into the room and offering a shallow bow and a quick, "My Lady."

"I thought I ordered that nest be destroyed not two moons past?" Thranduil questioned, remembering Legolas' report about the spiders and the dwarves.

Tauriel began to pace as she said, "We cleared the forest, as ordered, my Lord, but more spiders keep coming up from the South. They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Guldur. If we can kill them at their source-"

"That fortress lies beyond our borders. Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures. That is your task," Thranduil interrupted. This had been suggested before, and he was not about to change his mind over one guard's suggestion.

"And if we drive them off? What then? Will then not spread to other lands?" Tauriel questioned, pushing the point.

"Other lands are not my concern. The fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but here in this kingdom, we will endure," Thranduil said, maintaining his point.

As Tauriel paused to adjust her strategy, Thranduil's ears pricked at the soft sound of footsteps in the corridor. At the same time, Mirilas felt a second shift in the energy surrounding her. It felt the same as the previous shift. Someone that was not an elf was here, but who?

Mirilas glanced to her father, whose eyes were unfocused as though he, too, were listening. And then she heard it: soft footsteps. Her father turned, making eye contact with her. They both sensed the intruder.

Mirilas reached out with her magic and used the strength she had recovered to freeze the intruder where they stood. "Feren," she whispered to her father.

Thranduil called out to the servant waiting outside, "Feren!" His eyes did not leave his daughter's face. She looked to be concentrating as though she was using her magic.

Feren hurried in and asked, "Yes, my Lord?"

"Take Mirilas back to her chamber. She needs to rest," the Elven King instructed before shooting his daughter a look.

Feren nodded to Thranduil before walking to his lady's side and wrapping an arm around her waist to help her rise. One of her hands latched onto his as he helped her to walk out. "That way, Feren," she instructed, pointing with her free hand toward a staircase leading toward the cellars rather than to her room.

"But, my lady, your father-" Feren began to protest.

"My father knows," Mirilas said weakly. It was getting harder to hold the intruder in place. "There is someone here."

"My lady, shall I call for the guards?" Feren asked, nearly carrying her down the stairs.

"No, Feren. I would speak with him," Mirilas said, holding a hand up to her servant. "He is on the landing."

Soon, they reached the lower landing of the stairs. There was no one there, yet she still held the intruder still with her magic. She knew he was there.

"Show yourself," Mirilas commanded, loosening her hold on the intruder but not fully releasing it.

She heard scuffling sounds as the intruder tried to leave but found himself caught in her magic. "I will not harm you," she assured the intruder.

Mirilas heard a sigh before a little halfling appeared in front of the pair of elves. The hobbit's clothes were travel-worn, and little bits of spider webs hung from him. The hobbit watched the two elves carefully, as though afraid that they would imprison him.

"Did you come here with the dwarves?" Mirilas asked the hobbit.

The hobbit hesitated, clearly wary of what a truthful answer would bring down upon him.

"I will not harm you," Mirilas said with a peaceful smile.

The serenity of her presence reassured the hobbit. Carefully, he said, "Yes, my lady."

"And you mean to set them free? Allow them to continue their quest?" Mirilas asked, her head tilting to the side curiously.

Bilbo took in a breath before answering, "Yes."

"What is your name?" Mirilas asked with a smile, placing a hand gently on the hobbit's shoulder.

"Bilbo Baggins, at your service," he said, looking up into her beautiful face in awe. While he had met many elves in Rivendell, none compared to her.

"Well, Bilbo, I am Mirilas, daughter of Thranduil. You should wait until the festivities are well underway," Mirilas suggested, briefly squeezing his shoulder in reassurance.

"My lady-" Feren began to protest in disbelief and confusion.

"If the dwarves are willing to risk death to reclaim their home, who are we to stop them?" Mirilas asked sagely, looking up to her servant.

Feren bowed his head, submitting to his lady's will.

"Now, you are a halfling?" Mirilas asked, placing a gentle hand on Bilbo's back near his shoulders to guide him along the corridor.

Bilbo nodded and said a little proudly, "Yes."

"I will show you where you may rest, Bilbo. Then, I must prepare. I am expected at the Feast," Mirilas said kindly.

"Thank you, my Lady," Bilbo said, hardly believing his luck at finding so wise and kind a lady in a realm where the king seemed so unreasoning.

As they passed an open passageway, Mirilas motioned to it and said, "That is the way to the kitchens. They will be busy now preparing for the Feast, but in an hour or two, you will be able to slip in and out unnoticed." Bilbo looked down the passage, hearing the clanging and sizzling of a kitchen in the distance.

Minutes later, they reached an ornate, though sturdy-looking door. Mirilas stopped in front of it and carefully opened it. "You may rest here," she said, striding into her rooms.

The hobbit stared at the luxurious finery of the elf-lady's sitting room. She had a wall full of bookshelves and a neatly set sitting area with a comfortable-looking couch that would do almost better than a bed for the little hobbit.

Mirilas motioned to another door further into the room and said, "You may bathe in the pool through there."


	9. Chapter 9: Merethen Giliath

Chapter Nine

Mirilas stood in front of her mirror, turning this way and that to examine her appearance. She would not be able to dance much at the feast; after all, she had barely been able to stand this morning! If she could not dance, she could not escape the many suitors that would vie for her attention. That had been one of the perks of her training in Lorien. She had been away from her suitors and so busy that she could hardly acquire new ones. And above all, a certain level of decorum was expected of her as princess of this kingdom. She would not shame her father over so simple a thing as her appearance.

Her gown was made of navy silks with silver detailing. The silver threads shone against the navy as they caught the light. The billowing sleeves of her gown opened to reveal her pale forearms. The open neckline swooped down to just above her breasts, revealing a hint of cleavage, and on her sternum rested an emerald pendant, a gift from her father. On her brow sat a little circlet of silver vines woven in with her silver hair. She looked perfect. She would not disappoint her father.

"Are you ready, my Lady?" Feren asked from beside the door.

"Yes," Mirilas said, turning away from the mirror and walking over to take her servant's hand.

"Remember, my Lady, you must not overexert yourself. You are still weak from the journey," Feren reminded his lady gently as he led her to the Hall.

"I know, Feren," Mirilas said in resignation.

"The alcove is prepared, if you need to rest," Feren reminded her.

"Good, thank you," Mirilas said with a nod.

"Do not worry, my Lady," Feren reassured her, knowing what that tone meant his lady was feeling. "You look beautiful. Your father will be proud of you."

"Thank you, Feren," Mirilas said gratefully, pausing around the corner from the hall to gather herself.

A couple seconds later, Mirilas sighed before drawing herself to her full, though rather diminutive for an elf, height. She nodded her head and resumed her walk to the Hall.

The Hall was already busy with the many subjects of the Woodland Realm, all dressed in their feast clothes. The Hall itself was draped with vines of ivy and a variety of flowering vines, all in shades of red, orange, and yellow as their leaves prepared to fall. Her brother was already being mobbed by elleths attempting to attract his attention in the hopes of marrying him. Her father sat on his throne, goblet of wine in hand as he surveyed the happiness of his people.

As their subjects started to notice her presence, a number of ellon approached her to welcome her and ask for a dance. Mirilas sighed before beginning to greet them with a smile, as was expected of her.

Three dances in a row later, Legolas stepped in, saving her from the mobs before they tired her out. Thankfully, the elleths followed him to her and began to interact with her crowd of followers, freeing the siblings from their crowds of admirers.

"Anira na si?" (Do you want to stay?) Legolas asked, supporting his sister as she sagged against him tiredly.

"Uar," (No,) Mirilas replied, shaking her head slowly. If she were to stay, she would be asked to dance again, which she would tire her out too quickly.

Legolas nodded, half-carrying her out of the Hall to a nearby alcove in the corridor. Feren stood waiting and, upon seeing the siblings, hurried over to swoop his lady up into his arms and lay her on the cushioned ledge behind him.

"Togin le samello lin?" (Should I take you to your chamber, my Lady?) Feren asked as she slumped into the cushions with an exhausted sigh.

"Uar," (No) Legolas declined, "Togathon ten." (I'll take her) It was both a relief and a pleasure to look after his sister in these circumstances. She needed help, which he was more than happy to give. This had the added benefit of keeping him from the throng of eager, young elleths vying for his attention to gain further social standing. The only elleths whose company he truly enjoyed were his sister and Tauriel.

Feren bowed and left as Legolas carefully picked up his sister and began the walk to her chamber. The servant took a different, longer path to his lady's room. He would not leave her alone this night, not when that hobbit was in her room. No matter how harmless he had seemed, Feren would not shirk his duty to his lady.

"Legolas, who were the dwarves you found in the forest?" Mirilas asked after several seconds of silence punctuated only by her brother's soft, elven footsteps. The sound reminded her that Feren was uncharacteristically loud when he walked for an elf, though she was sure he was not a halfbreed.

Legolas frowned at his sister's interest in the dwarves. They were a rough, uncouth people that he thought should not be around his sister at the very least while she was so weak. "We found them in the spiders' nest," he began, hesitating before telling her more. "They mean to reclaim the Mountain."

Mirilas sighed as she considered this. Erebor had been taken over a hundred years ago by Smaug, and days later she had been sent to Lothlorien. She knew the two events were connected, as was the time in her childhood when a dragon had taken her from where she and her brother were playing in the forest to its lair in the Grey Mountains far to the north. She knew it had been hard for her father to travel past Gundabad, where her mother had died, to save her from the dragon, yet he had done it for her and lost half his face that same day. She had been trying to be useful to him ever since, refusing to let his sacrifice that day be a waste.

That same injury had allowed Celon to kill the beast. That injury had been how they had discovered that her ability was, in fact, magic. In a single touch, she had healed the horrible burn on her father's face to a scar and hidden the scar with a glamour. Maybe her father thought that dragons could sense her power? Did they consider her a threat? Or treasure for them to hoard? Was that why he had sent her away when another dragon showed itself?

"Father will not let them return to the Mountain, will he?" Mirilas asked. She knew her father well enough to know he would not risk his realm or his wine supply from Lake Town by waking the dragon.

"No, he will not," Legolas said, sounding as if he did not agree with the decision, either, no matter how he personally felt about dwarves. "They did trespass," Legolas said as though trying to reason out their father's decision.

"Yes, but that may have been because of the spiders," Mirilas reminded him.

Legolas nodded and sighed. "His animosity toward dwarves has grown," he acknowledged.

"That cannot be the only reason for his decision," Mirilas disagreed, closing her eyes as she tried to think of any other reason he would not allow the dwarves to continue their journey. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open as she remembered when her father had taken her to Erebor to pay homage to King Thror. "The necklace," she whispered.

"What necklace?" Legolas asked curiously.

" _The_ necklace! Grandmother's necklace!" she said in realization. "When we visited Erebor, Thror showed Ada a necklace but would not give it to him. That _must_ be Grandmother's necklace!"

"It would still be in the Mountain," Legolas said, catching on to his sister's train of thought.

"Could he not offer to help the dwarves in exchange for the necklace?" Mirilas asked, confused at why the dwarves were still imprisoned if this was true.

"But how would the dwarves kill a dragon?" Legolas asked.

"Celon did. He killed the wyrm from the Grey Mountains," Mirilas reminded him.

"He _killed_ it?!" Legolas exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes. What did you think happened?" Mirilas confirmed.

"Ada only said that it would not be a threat anymore..." Legolas said. "I thought he had wounded it, or made a deal with it, or forced it to flee...How did they manage it?!"

"Nenar pried a scale loose while the dragon was focused on Ada. Celon killed it. He used a sword from the dragon's trove that turned to ice as it pierced the dragon's hide," Mirilas said, remembering the events from her childhood.

"It must have been a magic sword. It would not have pierced the dragon's hide any other way," Legolas speculated.

"It turning to ice was not enough of a hint for you?" Mirilas asked with surprising acidity in her tone.

Legolas stopped short. "What is it, Mirilas?" he asked. His sister rarely got like this, but when she did, there was always a reason.

"It is nothing..." Mirilas said dismissively, hoping her brother would drop the subject.

"No, it is not," Legolas said firmly. "I know you, Sister."

Mirilas sighed and said with pain and guilt in her voice, "That is how Ada was injured...The wyrm nearly killed him..."

"You cannot blame yourself for that, Miri," Legolas said urgently.

"Why not? If not for me, he would be-"

"Stop," her brother commanded firmly. "Without you, Ada would not be how he is today. You are all that has kept his heart from hardening without Naneth." (Mother)

Mirilas sighed but said in a voice that told him that she had bowed to his superior wisdom in this matter, "I can make it the rest of the way."

Legolas gently set his sister on the floor before hugging her firmly. "Maer fuin, Nethig," (Good night, Sister) he said softly. There would be no fighting her on this. She had deferred to him, and now it was his turn.

"Maer fuin, hanar nin," (Good night, my brother) she returned as she extricated herself from her brother's arms and started walking to her quarters.

Legolas sighed and walked back to the feast.


	10. Chapter 10: Awake in the Night

Chapter Ten

Mirilas sighed as she wearily walked into her chambers. A quick glance to the couch over in her parlour confirmed that the hobbit Bilbo was fast asleep with a spare blanket tangled around himself. The elf wearily crossed the room to her dark-wooded vanity, stripping off her emerald necklace and official circlet as she walked to lay the jewellery in their places in front of the mirror. Turning to her wardrobe, Mirilas slowly and laboriously stripped off her voluminous, silken gown before setting about unlacing her white undergown to dress down to her linen shift.

Just as she succeeded in pulling the undergown over her head, a soft knock sounded on her door. Mirilas sighed again, laying her undergown beside her gown on the back of a nearby chair before searching through the wardrobe for her dressing gown. She slipped the blue brocade over her shoulders and tied the front as she crossed the room to answer the door.

Feren stood in the corridor waiting patiently for his lady outside the door, hoping she was still awake so he would not have to sneak in and scare her in the morning with his presence. The door opened silently, and the servant could feel relief rush through him. Anything to keep her comfortable, and happy, and safe. "What is it, Feren?" she asked, signs of exhaustion showing in both her tone and her face. She desperately needed to sleep, which meant he was keeping her up.

"I will not leave you alone with him," Feren said in determination, hoping she would not fight him on this so that he could get her to sleep earlier rather than later. Her father had said to protect her, and so he would.

Mirilas nodded as she said, "I thought so. Come in."

Feren followed his lady into the room, relieved that she had accepted his presence as guard for the night so easily. As she collapsed into her bed, he carefully hung her gown and overgown in her wardrobe before moving the plush chair back to her bedside so that it was positioned strategically between her and the sofa where the hobbit lay asleep.

As the servant settled into the chair for the night, his lady looked up from the bed to say, "Please wake me in the morning, Feren."

"As you wish, my Lady," Feren assured her gently and quietly. He knew that by this instruction she meant to rise before the many elves who were, even now, drinking and feasting in the Hall. This was one of a very few situations in which elves slept for more than a few hours. These elves would sleep past noon. No doubt, she meant to take advantage of the aftermath of the feast to free the dwarves.

He could stop her. A few words to King Thranduil would see to it that the watch on the dwarves never abated, and Mirilas would be guarded still more than usual. But she would be blamed for this. However, if she helped the dwarves escape and was not seen, no one would ever know that she had helped them. Her father would not be angry with her, and the wrath of Thranduil was not something he wanted directed at his lady. He would not see how far the King's love for his daughter extended by risking his respect for and trust in her.

No. He would allow her to free the dwarves. Then, this whole business of helping prisoners could be put behind them. She would be safe again.

Feren carefully studied his lady's face as it slowly relaxed into sleep, erasing the signs of weariness that had marred her face. Her breath shallowed and slowed until he was sure she was deeply asleep. She was beautiful like this, though not more beautiful than when her face shone as she performed magic. As she cast her spells, it seemed the very light of the stars shone from her. He was quite sure by now that as Mithrandir's power came from fire and the Lady Galadriel's came from water, his lady Mirilas's power came from starlight.

And what power it was. In the century that Mirilas had trained with Galadriel in magic, she had gone from the accidental magic of a child, occasionally amazing but largely unimpressive, to a powerful, young sorceress well on her way to being one of the most powerful elves in Middle Earth.

Her power would soon reach its peak, likely within a few years. And he would be watching, ready to care for her, comfort her, and protect her for as long as the Valar and her father allowed him.

* * *

Down in the cells of Thranduil's halls, thirteen dwarves languished. Some slept. Others traded stories. Still more tried desperately to think up a plan to escape these halls. However, they knew that they could not escape without help. These cells were too sturdy and these halls too well guarded. Alone, they would never succeed.

Among them was Balin son of Fundin and advisor to Thorin Oakenshield. Unlike the others, Balin took the time of this incarceration to think. Thranduil had offered Thorin a deal, but Thorin, in all his hard-headedness, had not accepted, choosing instead to insult their host and turn him into their jailor. This from the dwarf who called their jailor's daughter his One!

This was, unfortunately, not a surprise to Balin. Thorin's hatred of elves had blinded him from taking even Elrond's help, and Elrond had had nothing to do with the fall of Erebor. And now they had gone to Thranduil for help, not Elrond. Small wonder Thorin rejected Thranduil's offer.

Perhaps, if he were to get an audience with the Elf King, he could strike a deal to get them out. He had offered the deal once, so he could offer it again. However, Thranduil could be vindictive, rather like Thorin but much easier to reason with than his own king. He might not offer the deal again simply because Thorin had so angrily rejected it. Thranduil did not need to regain the Mountain. Even they did not _need_ to regain Erebor. It was their home, yes, but their people had a home, a life, in the Blue Mountains. And yet, here they were, stalled on their way to the Lonely Mountain in the halls of the elf Thorin perceived as their second greatest enemy after Azog. Sometimes, he worried about Thorin's sanity.

Then, there was the matter of Thorin's interest in Thranduil's daughter. He knew she was beautiful, but Thorin was not known for being touched by the beauty of the elves. That could not be the answer to this. Mere beauty would not cause Thorin to feel the pull of his One.

It was clear that Thorin was at least infatuated with her, though Balin sincerely hoped that he was not truly in love with the elf princess, that she was not his One. The glint in his eyes as he spoke of her revealed that much. She apparently had magic, though Thorin had not known as much when his interest in her had been piqued. She could be a formidable opponent should they manage to incur her wrath...or her father's...Thorin had picked the wrong elf lord to anger. Thranduil had a large, well-trained army and a powerful sorceress for a daughter. This was bad, very bad.

A deal it was. But, how was he to gain an audience with Thranduil? The guards came through periodically, checking that they were still in their cells. He could ask one of them, though he doubted they would be around as often tonight with their party going on. He would ask in the morning, when they brought food for the Company. Hopefully, Thranduil would be in a better mood after the party and more amenable to striking a deal for their release.


	11. Chapter 11: The Way Out

Chapter Eleven

"Wake up, little halfling," a voice woke Bilbo from his comfortable sleep.

Bilbo started, eyes snapping open to see the servant of the elf-lady Mirilas standing over him. The elf stood up straight as the hobbit peered at him as if waiting for him to be fully awake.

"Good morning, Bilbo," a lyrical, soothing voice called from the other side of the room. Sitting beside a table was the elf-lady from the night before, calmly nibbling on an apple.

"Good morning, my Lady," Bilbo said in return, sitting up to regain his bearings.

"Everyone should still be asleep from last night's festivities. We should be able to get you to the dwarves with few difficulties," she said, standing to walk over. Rest had clearly done the elf-lady much good as she could walk unaided this morning, though her gait was slow and seemed to be tiring her quickly. She certainly seemed to recuperate quickly.

"We?" Bilbo asked as he realized what she had said. Did she intend to take him to the dwarves?

"Feren and I," Mirilas clarified lightly as she handed him another apple from the table beside her. "This way."

The two elves led Bilbo through the corridors deeper into the caverns, keeping a slow enough pace that the much shorter hobbit could easily keep up and not tire out Mirilas. In less time than the hobbit would have thought, they had reached the end of the stairs. This was not, however, the cells.

The two elves paused on the stairs, ushering Bilbo forward into the room. Racks and racks of wine lined the walls, suggesting that this was the cellar. At a table in the middle of the room, four elves were passed out, each smelling heavily of wine.

Bilbo glanced back to the elves, unsure of why he was in the cellars rather than with the dwarves. In answer, Mirilas pointed silently to a hook on the far wall. The keys to the cells were hung on that hook as though waiting for Bilbo to come and take them. How could this be so easy?

Feren shot his lady a knowing look upon realising that Elros, the Keeper of the Keys, and Galion, the steward were drunk. She had known that Galion would convince Elros and the two guards of the cells to drink for Merethen Giliath. This would make the dwarves' escape much easier.

The keys clinked as Bilbo crossed the cellars back to the stairs, drawing Feren's attention away from his lady briefly. He nodded to the hobbit and gestured back up the stairs before beginning to help his lady climb the stairs.

Feren and Mirilas led Bilbo up the stairs to the only passage leading to the cells. There, they stopped. The hobbit stopped behind them, thinking someone was coming. Before he could dig the Ring out of his pocket and slip it on, Mirilas placed a soft hand on his shoulder and said quietly though resolutely, "Your dwarves are up there."

Bilbo nodded and said gratefully, "Thank you, my Lady, for all you've done."

"It was no trouble, Bilbo. Now, go. Free them," Mirilas said, urging the hobbit onward. Mirilas took Feren's arm again, thinking to begin the trek back to her room for a few more hours of rest.

"Wait," Bilbo said suddenly, stopping them.

Mirilas turned to peer at the hobbit expectantly.

"How do we get out?" Bilbo asked as his anxiety showed on his face.

"There is a lever in the cellars. It opens a hatch to the river. The river flows out of the forest to the lake. From there, you will see the Mountain," Mirilas explained patiently.

Bilbo nodded again and said, "Thank you."

"Go free your friends, Bilbo. Good luck," Mirilas said gently, offering the hobbit a reassuring smile.

Bilbo nodded at the two elves. Then, he hurried up the stairs to the cells and began to unlock them one by one.

Feren could hear the dwarves' whoops and hollers of joy as he began to help his lady back up the stairs. He sighed, hoping this whole affairs could be put behind them so that life in the Woodland Realm could return to normal.

Before they had gone far up the stairs, they heard heavy footsteps tromping down the stairs toward him. Feren immediately stopped, laying a hand on Mirilas's arm to stop her. If they did not move, the dwarves would likely not notice them. Soon enough, a young dwarf appeared from the passage to the cells. The dwarf glanced down the stairs before turning to make his way up the stairs, right toward them.

The young dwarf stopped, staring wide-eyed at the pair of elves that had been standing just around the corner from the Company. "Who are you?" he asked timidly, sounding confused.

Two more dwarves came running, having noticed their brother's error in direction and wishing to keep him from getting lost and revealing their escape to the elves. As they, too, saw the pair of elves, the red-haired dwarf called back to the Company, "Thorin!"

Feren turned to his lady in worry. She shook her head at him with wide eyes, hoping to communicate that they could not call the guards. Not only would this situation be much too hard to explain, but the dwarves would not escape.

Meanwhile, more dwarves came down the stairs to find the elves. A couple demanded such things as, "Who is she?!" and "What do we do?!"

Hearing this, Bilbo hurried back down the stairs. The dwarves must have found the elves! If he could get to them, he could stop the dwarves from doing something irrational. "She's-" he began to call from the back of the group of dwarves.

"Take her!" Thorin commanded over all the fuss.

"What?!" Bilbo nearly shrieked, not believing what Thorin was doing. She was an elf lady! They were unarmed! They posed no threat to the dwarves' escape! What were they doing?!

"Uncle-" Kili tried to protest as Dwalin stepped up the stairs toward the elves to grab the elf princess.

Just as Dwalin's hand closed around the elf lady's forearm, a flash of light burst out from Mirilas' hand, sending Dwalin flying away from her into the other dwarves. Feren took this opportunity to step in front of Mirilas, pulling a long dagger from a hidden pocket of his robes.

The dwarves that had not been bowled over by Dwalin's descent stepped back from the elves warily. Despite not having weapons, they would attempt to do as Thorin had commanded.

Behind her servant and defender, Mirilas slumped on the stairs, having used all the energy she had regained in these last days in that spell. She could no longer stand, let alone run from the dwarves. She would just have to wait and hope.

Bofur tried to push his way toward the head of the Company, hoping he could stop his fellows from hurting the two elves. He had noticed that neither of them had taken action until the dwarves had threatened them. He hoped that if they just left, the elves would not do anything to them, like call the guards.

Standing along the far wall, Balin surveyed the scene grimly. This was unexpected. He had hoped that Bilbo would turn up and help them escape, but having Thranduil's daughter turn up was not a situation he had considered, let alone Thorin deciding to kidnap her. The Thorin he knew would not have done this, regardless of him thinking she was his One.

Within a minute, the dwarves had wrestled the dagger from the elf servant's hand. As Feren continued to struggle against them, Fili grabbed the elf's shoulders and shoved him down the stairs. The elf went tumbling, hitting his head as he hit the landing. Feren slumped at the feet of Thorin, clearly unconscious.

Mirilas looked down at the dwarves in terror. There was nothing stopping them from taking her with them against her will.

The large, muscular dwarf that she had knocked down the stairs moved toward her again, this time throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before brushing the fabric of her grey gown out of his face. She was too weak to do much more than lay there helplessly.

"Which way, Bilbo?" the leader demanded.

"Th-this way," Bilbo stuttered out, still watching the elf lady over Dwalin's shoulder with guilt flooding through him.

"Lead on," Thorin said, clapping his hand on Bilbo's shoulder.

Bilbo sighed in resignation and led the dwarves down to the cellars and the hatch to the river.


	12. Chapter 12: Of Cellars and Barrels

Chapter Twelve

"This way," Bilbo whispered, holding a hand out to motion for the dwarves to follow him into the cellar. "Come on," he urged them when the dwarves hesitated at the foot of the stairs upon seeing the sleeping elves at the table.

"We're in the cellars!" Kili whisper-shouted to Bofur behind him upon seeing the barrels and bottles of wine.

Bofur walked to Bilbo while whisper-shouting to him mistrustingly, "You're supposed to be leading us out, not further in!"

"Trust me," Bilbo whispered back, attempting to placate them. He knew Mirilas had not been lying to him. She had kept to her word so far. He had no reason to doubt her, even in her current...situation...

Quickly, the hobbit looked around the cellar for the lever and the hatch. He found the lever easily enough. It was located near the centre of the room, several feet from the table where the wood elves still lay sleeping. The hatch, though, was much less obvious.

Bilbo dropped to his knees and started feeling along the floor for the hatch only to hit Fili's foot as the dwarf asked urgently, "What's the plan, Bilbo?"

Bilbo looked up to answer Fili with what Mirilas had told him. After all, all he knew of these caverns was what she had told him. Another wave of guilt flooded through the hobbit at the thought of the elf princess that had helped them but was even now being kidnapped from her home by these same dwarves.

Bilbo's anguish was cut short when he caught sight of the pile of empty barrels sitting not five feet from the lever. That was it! "You all need to get into the barrels," Bilbo said, hopping to his furry feet eagerly.

"They'll find us!" Bofur spit back. Clearly, he thought this plan was utterly ridiculous.

"No, they won't. Just trust me," Bilbo pleaded, not willing to tell the dwarves that they actually needed to trust their captive.

The dwarves began to argue in whispers with each other, debating whether they should trust their burglar's plan or attempt to find their own way out. Only Dwalin and Thorin stayed silent. Dwalin watched his leader as Thorin looked speculatively at the barrels before turning to the dwarves and shutting them all up by commanding in a strong whisper, "Do as he says."

As Dwalin turned, Mirilas caught the hobbit's gaze, pleading silently for him to help her with hazy, pain-filled eyes. Bilbo took a step toward her, hoping to distract the dwarves with getting into the barrels so that she could hide from them.

Before he could take another step, Thorin stepped between the hobbit and Dwalin, catching Bilbo's eyes seriously as though he knew exactly what Bilbo had meant to do. Thorin seemed to have a sixth sense where the elf princess was concerned.

They did not notice Mirilas studying the dwarven prince, finally remembering where exactly she had seen Thorin before. He had been there when she had visited Erebor with her father! This Thorin was the same dwarf that had seemed so interested in elves? Or at least, with either her or her father...Why did she have such an awful feeling that his interest was solely in her?

In seconds, all of the dwarves save Dwalin and Thorin were in the barrels. The two shared a look before Dwalin picked the elf princess up by the waist and lowering her from his shoulder so that Thorin could grab her arms.

As Mirilas weakly kicked at Thorin's grasping arms, the dwarf prince called quietly, "Fili!"

The blonde dwarf glanced up from his barrel sitting on the ground before reaching out to grab the elf's ankles. As Fili began to pull her into his barrel, Thorin yanked her roughly and said, "No! She stays with me!"

Fili wrinkled his brow in confusion but held the elf-maid's weakly struggling legs as Thorin crawled into the barrel beside Fili. Amongst the three of them, they managed to manhandle the elf into the barrel alongside Thorin, who wrapped his arms around the elf princess more tightly than was necessary to keep her from escaping.

"Please do not do this," Mirilas pleaded in a pained whisper to the dwarf holding her. She would not tell him, but his hold on her waist felt as though it was crushing her ribs.

"I will not let you go," Thorin returned, looking into the elf-maid's dark green eyes with both affection and a certain determination that sent a chill down her spine.

Dwalin quickly swung himself into another empty barrel as Bilbo surveyed the dwarf-laden barrels, saying to himself, "They're all in." Bilbo quickly pulled the lever, activating the hatch and dumping the dwarves unceremoniously into the river below.

Mirilas squeaked as the barrel holding both her and the dwarven leader hit the water, tossing around for several seconds before Thorin reached out and grabbed the rocky ledge at the edge of the river to stop the barrel's rolling. Mirilas glanced around from just above the lip of the barrel, quickly realizing that the hobbit was not among them. "Bilbo..." she whispered worriedly, hoping the dwarves would not leave the hobbit behind. She would not put it past them at this point, considering that she had helped them and now they were kidnapping her. She did not notice Thorin throwing her a curious and suspicious look at her knowledge of Bilbo's name.

As Mirilas turned her gaze to the hatch above them, the hatc opened again, and Bilbo fell from it into the river below.

"Well done, Master Baggins," Thorin said, releasing his hold on the ledge to begin to paddle their barrel along the river. The rest of the dwarves followed him as well as they were able while Bilbo clung to the last barrel in the line.

"Hold on!" Thorin suddenly yelled as Mirilas felt the water rushing faster and faster. She quickly shut her eyes and clung to the only thing available to her inside the barrel: Thorin.

A second later, the barrel down a short waterfall to the series of rapids and waterfalls beyond. Mirilas would have doubted that the barrels would hold had she not known that these barrels were routinely sent down the river to Esgaroth. Still, she knew that the barrel could easily overturn, sending her, and the dwarf prince, she supposed, into the river.

This day was not turning out to be very good at all.


	13. Chapter 13: Down the River

Chapter Thirteen

"Legolas, the dwarves have escaped!" Tauriel called.

Instantly, the elf prince was on his feet and seizing his bow to run after the captain of the guards.

"They went down the river!" Tauriel called as she reached the cellars and saw the hatch leading to the river close. Pivoting quickly, she ran off for the passage to the dam with the guards following close behind.

Within minutes, Tauriel's group emerged from the caverns to see the river flowing out of the cave. The dwarves were already farther along the river than they had anticipated.

A horn sounded behind them as the group ran along the banks toward the dam. Tauriel glanced back to see Legolas running toward them and Elros behind him sounded the horn of alarm.

Mirilas's head peaked up from inside the barrel at the sound of the horn, hitting Thorin's stomach as she adjusted herself to look first back to the entrance to the caverns where Elros stood, horn held to his lips, and then down the river to where she knew there was a dam. She had a chance! They might close the dam in time and be caught! As much as Mirilas hoped the dwarves would have their own chance to recover their home, she did not want to leave her home so soon after returning, much less with a bunch of unwashed dwarves. The river did seem to be helping with their smell.

As the barrel dropped again, Mirilas remembered that there were at least two small waterfalls between the caverns and the dam, though she struggled to remember if there was a third. She had only travelled along this river one time when her father had taken her to Erebor, and that was over a century ago.

Just before another drop, Mirilas remembered that there was a third waterfall, and that this one was larger than the other two. Suddenly, Mirilas very much hoped that Thorin would keep to his word and not let her go. Perhaps then she would survive this unorthodox ride down the river.

The barrel dropped again, falling down the last waterfall before they reached the dam. Mirilas shrieked as it hit the rough waters at the bottom and nearly flipped over, dumping the two into the river. At the last second, Thorin righted the barrel with one arm stuck out while the other held her close to him in preparation for pulling her from the river should he need to. He did not notice that his hand was resting directly between her breasts, though she certainly noticed.

It was then that Mirilas heard a call in Sindarin followed by the mechanical sound of the grate of the dam being closed. Thorin thrust himself back up to stand in the barrel, shouting as the grate closed in front of them, "No!"

While Thorin attempted to force the grate open, the party heard the sound of swords being unsheathed. There were guards atop the dam! Mirilas slipped her arms out of the barrel to reach up over her head toward the bridge, hoping that one of the guards would pull her from the barrel and away from these dwares or that she could reach the ledge and somehow find the strength to pull herself out. Before the dwarves had time to panic, a crude arrow shot out from beyond the dam and hit one of the elven guards in the back, killing him. As the guard fell, an orc climbed up the dam with a growl, quickly surveying the scene likely for how many people it would need to kill. Mirilas nearly fell back into the barrel in her haste to put distance between herself and the orcs.

"Watch out!" Bofur called as the body of the elven guard fell into the river in front of the last dwarf-filled barrels.

In seconds, the elves were being swarmed with orcs. They fought well, but there were far too many orcs. Many of the orcs quickly moved on to attack the dwarves, but the dwarves fought well, appropriating weapons off the dead orcs as they slayed one after another.

Just as the last of the orcs in the river was killed, a shout went up among the dwarves, "Kili!"

Mirilas reluctantly peeked her head out of the barrel to see one of the younger, black-haired dwarves up on the steps beside the dam just short of the lever that opened and closed the grate with a black arrow sticking out of his leg. The elf winced at the sight of the injury and ducked her head back down into the barrel, hoping now that the elven guards were dead that he could open the grate and get her, and by extension the dwarves, away from this orcish battalion.

Just then, another group of elven guards ran up, killing the orcs as they came. At their lead was Tauriel, Captain of the Guard. Mirilas hardly dared to think she had ever seen a more welcome sight.

It was then that Mirilas was proved wrong. Her brother was among them! Summoning all her strength, Mirilas yelled out, "Legolas!"

A large hand was quickly clapped over her mouth, preventing her from calling to her people again. The dwarf leader quickly wrapped his other arm around her, keeping her from trying to escape. Despite this, Mirilas's eyes met her brother's, pleading for him to save her.

Mirilas squeaked into Thorin's hand as quite suddenly the grate opened, pitching the barrels forward in the river to the waterfall and the rapids beyond. She could have cried as the waters swept her away from her people, her home, and her family while she was trapped in the arms of a dwarf.

Water washed into the barrel as Thorin clung tightly to the elf princess, waiting for the barrel to right itself in the water. They were both thoroughly soaked by the time it stopped rolling in the rapids.

Both their heads poked up for air only for Mirilas to scream as an orc hopped out onto an overhanging felled tree and jumped at Thorin, swinging its jagged sword-like club at him. Thorin loosed his right hand from her to pull a spiked club he had taken from an orc from beside them in the barrel and throw it at the orc, killing it and pining it to the tree trunk. Thorin grabbed the orc's weapon as it spun out of the dead orc's hands before tossing it up river to another dwarf.

Soon enough, an orcish axe came flying at Thorin as yet another orc was killed. Thorin grabbed it, turning to defend himself and his captive from still more orcs.

In front of them, there was a dead tree crossing from bank to bank with perhaps five orcs perched atop it, weapons in hand as they swung at the dwarves. Thorin quickly laid a mighty chop to the centre of the trunk as they passed under the tree before throwing the axe back for his fellows to complete his work.

Within seconds, another barrel went flying up onto the bank, killing several dwarves as it bounced and rolled over the banks and crossed the river with enough force to continue its path of destruction. Mirilas supposed that there was a dwarf in the barrel, but she did not watch it to be sure as their barrel passed it. She was more concerned with the dwarf that leapt into an empty barrel downstream of her. My, but that dwarf was large!

Mirilas could have laughed when her brother leapt out over the water to balance on two of the dwarves heads as he fired arrow after arrow at the orcs, thinning their ranks further. As the rapids separated the two barrels, Legolas spun around to balance on the bald dwarf's head. Thorin's arm tightened around Mirilas as he realized that one of the elves was so close to his prisoner, refusing to let her be taken from him by some pretty, little elf-boy.

It was too late, anyway. Legolas leapt from the dwarf's head to the bank, killing off most of the remaining orcs quickly. Soon, only two were left. Legolas grappled with one while the other approached the elf from behind, raising its weapon high in preparation to kill him.

"No!" Mirilas screamed just as the dwarf beside her in the barrel released her to throw the last of the orcish weapons up to kill the orc behind her brother, saving his life. Thorin quickly replaced his arm around Mirilas as he looked back at the elf to silently taunt him at their escape with Thranduil's daughter.

Legolas seethed from the bank as he watched the dwarves continue bobbing down the river in their barrels with his sister.


	14. Chapter 14: The Elf King's Wrath

Chapter Fourteen

Feren woke with a groan, clutching his head as he opened his eyes. Standing above him were Galion, the steward, and Elros, the keeper of the keys. Elros offered him a hand, which he took to pull himself up to stand on the stairs leading to the cells.

"Where is the King?" Feren asked as he remembered the circumstances leading to his being knocked unconscious.

"His throne. He's waiting for a report from the guards about the dwarves' escape," Elros offered uncomfortably. Their King was already aware that somehow the dwarves had gotten the keys from him while he had been...inebriated. Thranduil was not known for being forgiving for such lapses, regardless of how often _he_ got drunk.

Feren nodded and raced off toward the Hall. They knew that the dwarves had escaped, but he doubted they knew that the dwarves had taken the princess with them.

Elros had been right. The Elven King was pacing in front of his throne, a red robe thrown over his simpler riding clothes. Feren was very grateful that Thranduil had been awake when he was notified of the dwarves' escape. His mood could be much worse, if not. He was also quite glad that elves did not get hangovers as humans and dwarves did. His king would be in a much more foul mood if he had a hangover from the night's festivities. Feren took courage in this before he addressed his king.

"My Lord!" Feren called as soon as he was near enough to bow to the Elven King.

"Feren? What is it? Is something wrong with my daughter?" Thranduil asked, looking very much as though another thing going wrong was the last thing he needed at present.

"The dwarves took her," the servant said quickly, bracing himself for Thranduil's anger.

Feren could hear his heart beating in his ears as the Elven King approached him with slow, measured steps, stopping directly in front of the servant. His face was eerily calm as he asked in a voice as cold as the Northern Wastes, "Tell me, _Feren_ , how did this happen?"

The muscles in the servant's neck tensed as he quickly thought up a response that would not implicate his lady in the dwarves' escape. Grasping at straws, Feren stuttered out fearfully, "I-i-i brought her t-to the c-c-c-cellars, m-m-my lord."

"Oh, you took her to the cellars," Thranduil said, his voice laden with false understanding. "Is that right, Feren?"

"Yes, my Lord," he squeaked, desperately clinging to his last shred of dignity in the calm before the Elven King's anger exploded.

"Tell me, Feren. What did I order you to do regarding my daughter?" Thranduil asked, turning his back on his servant.

"Care for her, help her, p-p-p-protect her.." Feren said in utter humiliation as he realized what the Elven King was doing.

"Ah," Thranduil continued in this dangerously light and calm tone that belied the fury that radiated throughout his entire being. "And tell me, Feren. Protecting her, that includes KEEPING HER OUT OF THE HANDS OF FILTHY DWRVES! DOESN'T IT?!"

"Y-y-y-y-yes, my Lord," Feren stuttered as his failure was laid bare.

The Elven King turned back to his servant, taking his shoulder in a bruising grasp. He enjoyed his servant's utter fear of him for a couple seconds before shoving him to the floor. Thranduil looked down at Feren on the floor as he said, regaining his former coldness, "You will serve under Galion to prepare my army to march. Do not fail me again."

Thranduil turned and strode away from his throne, leaving Feren to fight back tears at the knowledge that he had so utterly failed his lady.

As the King strode down the path toward the corridors that lead to his quarters, Maglor, the head of his Council, hurried up to match step with the angry King.

"Ernil nin, na golodh govada i gwaith tharsen?" (My King, is it wise to summon the army over such a matter?) Maglor asked, looking up to the king with a concerned expression.

Thranduil stopped walking instantly, turning to look down at his Council with an expression of fury. He was done hiding his anger from his underlings. It was time they knew who was King, time they knew what happened when they angered him.

" _Tharsen_?" ( _Such as this_?) he hissed out, leaning toward Maglor to further intimidate the elf.

"E-ernil nin, na yes ugolodh dagnira er ai noegyth?" (M-my king, is it not unwise to jump into war with a band of dwarves?) Maglor asked, beginning to regret having to do his job to represent the council to advise the King.

"Hi bal uvanwa an noegyth. He na ore mir. Ar, ina he una balpant, HE NA SELL NIN! Ore caunin hi doro! Ar UNATHON AWARTHA HE AH NOEGYTH!" (Her power cannot be lost to the dwarves. She is too valuable to lose. And, even if she was not powerful, SHE IS MY DAUGHTER! A princess of this realm! And I WILL NOT leave her with them!)

Maglor scurried away from his king while bowing profusely. Sometimes, he wished he had an easier job. Advising Thranduil was no cake walk.

* * *

"Such is the nature of evil: out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads, a shadow that grows in the dark, a sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was. So will it always be. In time, all foul things come forth," Thranduil said as he paced in front of his throne.  
"You were tracking a company of thirteen dwarves. WHY?" Legolas questioned the orc, taking out some of his anger that the dwarves had taken his sister in jabbing his blade into the orc's throat.

"Not thirteen. Not anymore. The young one, the blackhead archer, we stuck him with a morgul shaft. The poison's in his blood. He'll be chocking on it soon," the orc spat out smugly.

"Answer the question, Filth," Tauriel snarled, unable to control her own ire.

The orc hissed out in his native language, angering Tauriel to the point that she drew her long knife and whirled around, ready to strike.

"I would not antagonize her," Legolas warned the orc, sounding as though he wished the orc would so that he would die.

"You like killing things, Orc. You like death? Then let me give it to you!" Tauriel said, charging forward for a killing blow.

Thranduil stopped her with a quick yell before saying firmly, "Tauriel, ego! Mwao hi." (Tauriel, leave. Go now.) The king would not jeopardise the return of his daughter for the temper of a Captain of the Guard.

As Tauriel angrily walked away, Thranduil said, "I do not care about one dead dwarf. Answer the question. You have nothing to fear. Tell us what you know, and I will set you free."

"You had orders to kill them," Legolas began.

Before Legolas could continue, the orc snorted and hissed, "Not all. Only the small ones. Not the elf-bitch. You know _nothing_! Your world will burn."

"What are you talking about?!" Legolas pressed, knowing that the orc spoke of his sister.

The orc only growled, so Legolas nearly yelled out, "Speak!"

"Our time has come again. My master serves the One!" the orc growled. "Do you understand now. Elfling? Death is upon you! The flames of war are upon you!"

In one swift motion, Thranduil struck out, severing the orc's head even as his son held it.

Legolas looked at the orc head he held for a second before dropping it to the ground and asking, "Why did you do that? There was more he could tell us! He knew that the dwarves had her!"

"There was nothing more he could tell me," Thranduil said more grimly than Legolas had seen in any matter save his sister for a millenium. The elven king strode away from the orc body, elegantly sheathing his sword as he descended the steps.

"What did he mean by 'the flames of war'?" Legolas questioned, following his father.

"He means they intend to unleash a weapon so great it will destroy all before it," Thranduil said grimly before raising his voice to command, "I want the watch doubled at our borders! All roads, all rivers! Nothing moves, but I hear of it. No one enters this kingdom, and no one leaves it."

"And Mirilas? Yu don't mean to leave her to the dwarves?" Legolas asked.

"No. We must prepare if we are to retrieve her."


	15. Chapter 15: Escape?

Chapter Fifteen

Finally, the river slowed. The barrels were out of the rapids, and there were no orcs in sight. Mirilas sighed in relief as Thorin dog paddled their barrel over to the rocky river bank. The dwarf prince grabbed a hold of a rock, anchoring them and preventing them from being washed further down the river. Carefully, Thorin lifted Mirilas by the waist with one hand to the bank, setting her atop the rock before heaving himself out of the barrel to sit beside her.

The elf princess laid her head back against a rock behind her as she felt grumpiness set in. She was wet, she was cold, and she was tired, not to mention she was being held prisoner by a company of dwarves. She squeezed her eyes shut as she attempted to process all that had happened since she decided it was a good idea to get out of bed.

Mirilas then set about squeezing the water from her long hair and her dress as she muttered, "I should never have left bed."

Thorin chuckled beside her as he drained his boots of water. Under normal circumstances, his amusement at her annoyance would not have bothered her, but he had just taken her from her home and her family. She snapped.

There was a flash of light as Thorin was thrown from the rock back into the river. As the dwarf prince swam back to the bank, Mirilas picked herself up and jumped up the rocky bank to the forest, where she set off back toward her father's realm at the fastest pace she could manage, which ws not fast. She kept using all the energy she recuperated by using magic, though only when around these dwarves. This was yet another reason for which she should be free of them.

"Stop her!" Thorin yelled after spitting water out of his mouth from where he clung to the bank of the river, this time sans barrel and sans elf-maid. Hearing heavy footsteps running after her, Mirilas tried to run faster. At this pace, she would be caught easily, but she could not summon the strength to go any faster.

In a split second decision, Mirilas dodged behind a tree before taking a deep breath and concentrating on the feel of her magic. Just before she would have teleported back to her father's realm, the bald dwarf slammed into her, sending her to the ground, breaking her concentration, and knocking her unconscious as her head slammed into a rock.

* * *

While Bifur quickly bound Kili's injured leg, the rest of the Company save for Dwalin attempted to wring some of the water from their clothes and drain it from their shoes. As they were doing this, they suddenly sensed someone. One by one they turned to see a man, bow in hand, ready to fire upon Ori. Fili quickly leapt in front of him, stick in hand to attempt to fend off this strange man.

The man quickly fired an arrow that hit the stick. Kili quickly hefted a knife to throw at the man, but the man shot it out of his hand, quickly knocking another arrow. "Do it again, and you're dead," the man said, aiming at Kili.

Balin speculatively looked behind the man before saying placatingly, "Excuse me, but you're from Lake Town, if I'm not mistaken." Balin carefully approached man, who quickly turned to aim at the elderly dwarf. Balin held up his hands in a gesture of peace and continued to ask, "That barge over there...it wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?"

The man lowered his bow and walked over to collect the barrels. "What makes you think I would help you?" he asked as he loaded the barrels onto his barge.

"Those boots have seen better days, as has that coat. No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?" Balin was doing his best, and the man was slowly warming to the idea.

"A boy and two girls," he answered.

"And your wife? I imagine she's a beauty," Balin continued.

The man paused and looked out at where the river emptied into the lake as he said, "Aye. She was." The man glanced back at Balin, who shook his head quickly.

"I'm sorry..."

As Balin tried to backtrack in their conversation to regain some of the man's good will, Dwalin came tramping through the trees with what seemed to be a heap of expensive grey cloth and white hair over his shoulder. Dwalin looked over the man while hearing his brother blathering on and grumbled out, "Enough with the niceties."

"What's your hurry?" the man asked, eyeing both Dwalin and the woman slung over his shoulder. He could not help but notice that her form was taller than the dwarves and that her clothing was elven in design and quality.

"What's it to you?" Dwalin questioned back with a dominant gesture of his head.

"I would like to know who you are," the man said, stepping out of his barge. "And what you are doing in these lands."

Balin answered with a smile, "We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills."

After glancing at the unconscious woman, the man gave Balin a look as he moved to put the last barrel on board. "Simple merchants, you say?"

Thorin stepped forward to say with an air of command, "We need food. Supplies. Weapons. Can you help us?"

The man looked down to the barrels again, moving his fingers along one of the many arrow-damaged areas. "I know where these barrels came from."

"What of it?" Thorin asked in a dangerously level tone.

"I don't know what business you had with the elves, but I don't think it ended well." The man took a couple steps toward Thorin to make eye contact before his eyes flicked back to the woman Dwalin carried. He then stepped back to his barge and began to untie it from the dock. "No one enters Lake Town but by leave of the Master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil." Bard tossed the rope at Balin, who caught it easily. Balin made eye contact with Thorin, who made a gesture of his head toward the man.

Balin nearly sighed before saying, "I'll wager there are ways to enter that town unseen."

"Aye," the man answered, "But for that...you would need a smuggler."

"For which we would pay. Double," Balin said.

The man looked speculatively at Balin, beginning to see the tremendous urgency that would cause these dwarves to need to cross the lake and pay double for the service. "One thing, first," the man said, making eye contact with Balin before looking back up to the unconscious woman. "Who is she?"

Balin cleared his throat and said whist attempting to remain pleasant rather than guarded, "The lass is a recent addition to our Company." He attempted to stop himself from wringing his hands at the guilt of taking the Elven King's daughter.

"You might say that," Dwalin rumbled.

The man drew in a sigh before nodding and saying, "We have a deal."

Many of the dwarves smiled as they all made their way onto the barge. Once there, Dwalin laid the woman down beside the barrels, trying not to hurt her any more than the barrel ride and her little tumble in the forest had.

Thorin moved to the woman's side to smooth her waterlogged dress back over her slender legs and move her long, wet hair from her face, revealing her delicate, pointed ears to both the dwarf prince and the bargeman as he glanced down at her.

"An elf?" he asked under his breath, choosing not to question the dwarves about her. Yet.

Balin looked on at the dwarf he considered his king being so tender with the daughter of his sworn enemy. Concern flashed through his mind. Concern for the elf, that Thorin was using her to hurt Thranduil. Concern for Thorin, that he had lost his heart to so unattainable a woman. And hope. Hope that Thorin could look past his pride and his stubbornness to trust an elf.


	16. Chapter 16: What of the princess?

Chapter Sixteen

Radagast's Rhosgobel rabbits stopped across the stone bridge from the gate to Thranduil's halls. The somewhat crazy wizard hopped off his little sled and waddled across the bridge to the gate, pounding on it with his staff several times.

Seconds later, the gate opened. Two elven guards stood on the other side of the large, heavy door. "Ai na le?" (Who are you?) one of them questioned sharply, looking him over with assessing eyes.

"Im na Radagast i Ithron," (I am Radagast the Wizard) Radagast huffed back before saying, "I must speak with the Lady Mirilas."

"Man?" (What?) the same guard asked. Apparently, he did not speak the Common Tongue.

"Ho anira pent ah i Rin," (He wishes to speak with the Princess,) the other guard said to the first, sounding as though he did not believe the little man would be so bold. No one could simply come to the gates and see the princess!

"Man golodha sen echil pin ned Rin min? Na ho min ithron?" (How does this little hermit know of our princess? Is he even really a wizard?) the first guard asked, sounding very disbelieving.

"Im na Radagast i Baran, ar innasa tirad Rin lin!" (I am Radagast the Brown, and I demand an audience with your princess!) Radagast exclaimed, becoming indignant at these guards' behaviour.

"Daro!" (Wait!) a call came from behind the two.

A servant dressed in simple robes strode up to the two guards, asking, "Iest ho tirad ah hene?" (Why does he wish to speak with her?)

"Ten uinda, Feren. Hin ega!" (It does not matter, Feren. She is gone!) one of the guards admonished the servant. All of the guards knew this servant as they all knew their King, their Princess, and Legolas.

"Ega?! Inh?" (Gone?! Where?) Radagast asked in alarm, carefully not to slip back into the Common Tongue so that the wood elves could understand him. The wizard was worried for the young elf sorceress. Gandalf had said she would be in the Woodland Realm, so where had she gone so quickly?

"Man na si?" (Who are you?) the servant Feren asked, confused at why this intruder wished to know about his lady. After a hundred years of peace while his lady trained, what was the cause of this sudden interest in the princess?

"Ho pedhant ho na i ithron," (He said he was a wizard,) one of the guards supplied.

"Radagast?" Feren asked, peering at the little wizard and comparing him to his lady's description of the little wizard from her visit to Imladris.

"Lah! Si, inh egant Rin Mirilas?" (Yes! Now, where has Lady Mirilas gone?) Radagast demanded as his patience wore thin.

"Anfangrim togant hin dad i duin an Esgaroth," (Dwarves took her down the river to Lake Town,) Feren said.

"Egathon abti," (I will go after them,) Radagast assured them before quickly waddling back to his sled.

One of the guards laughed and said, "Uthelath! I Arani rim aderthuva Rin min!" (It will be no use! The King's army will retrieve our Princess!)

Feren watched the wizard go, wondering if perhaps this strange wizard might get to his lady before her father's army managed to leave the Woodland Realm. Perhaps, but being needed to help a wizard was not much better of a situation for his lady than being the captive of a bunch of dwarves bent on slaying a dragon, particularly given that dragons to this day searched for his lady for her power.

* * *

Bilbo had been holding himself back to decide how best to go about getting the dwarves‒ actually, he only had to convince Thorin‒ to release the elf lady. Speaking with Thorin directly was not an option. While Thorin had listened to him when there was no choice (i.e., when their escape was in jeopardy), he had a tendency to listen only to his most trusted dwarves in any other circumstance. Perhaps, Balin would be a good choice. Thorin trusted him and his advice, and Balin was reasonable enough to agree with the hobbit in this matter. However, Bilbo feared that not even Balin could get through to Thorin in this matter. The hobbit remembered how fiercely Thorin had clung to the elf princess and how angry he had been at her escape attempt.

"Balin, you have to talk with Thorin. You cannot let him just take her like this!" Bilbo said earnestly, though quietly. If this little scheme had any chance of success, Thorin could not know that Bilbo was the impetus behind the idea.

"He already has, Laddie. We have no choice when he gets this way," Balin said, resigned to obeying his leader's commands, or rather his king's whims.

"But you all owe her for your escape from Thranduil's cells!" Bilbo exclaimed, lowering his voice half way through as he realized that Nori, who sat near them, could have heard them.

"What do you mean, Bilbo? Did she help you get us out?" Balin asked earnestly.

"Somehow, I don't really know how, she _sensed_ me, even when I was hidden," Bilbo began to explain.

"Elves have incredible hearing," Balin tried to suggest.

However, Bilbo quickly shook his head and disagreed, "It wasn't that! She could _not_ have heard me!"

Balin frowned speculatively as he thought back to what Thorin had told them in the cells. Perhaps, this...sensing...was part of her power?

Bilbo fidgeted for a second before breaking through the old dwarf's thoughts to say in a rush, "She...She fed me, let me bathe and sleep in her own quarters! _She_ led me to the keys _and_ to the cells!"

Balin took a deep breath as he thought over this new information. Finally, he said to the hobbit, "We owe her."

"Yes," Bilbo confirmed emphatically.

Balin gave Bilbo a look filled with guilt, worry, and resignation. "I will speak with him, Laddie," he assured her, "But...Bilbo, you need to know something." Balin motioned for the hobbit to come closer so that Balin could lower his voice still further. The old dwarf spoke into the hobbit's ear, "Thorin has seen her before, Laddie."

Bilbo looked toward the dwarf in surprise. He thought that Thorin hated elves. Why would he have seen an elf princess before?

Balin nodded solemnly and said quietly, "She and her father visited the Mountain days before Smaug came."

Bilbo frowned, thinking it fortunate that the elves escaped the wrath of the dragon. It did not occur to him that perhaps the dragon had been drawn to the Mountain by the elves' presence, or rather by one elf's presence.

"Thorin felt the pull of his One when he saw her," Balin continued.

"Dwarves have one person that they are destined for, someone that completes them. If one of us is lucky enough to find our One, they usually marry...Every dwarf wants to marry their One, but they are so rare..." Balin explained.

"What if they are separated? Or one of them dies?" Bilbo questioned, thinking what it would be like to have such a One.

Balin shook his head. "You cannot separate a dwarf and their One. It is against dwarven law...Because when one of them dies, the other dies." This above all concerned Balin about Thorin and the elf princess. If she trully was Thorin's One, nothing would keep Thorin from her, but Thranduil would do anything to keep the princess from Thorin.

Bilbo frowned as he looked to Balin and asked, "What do we do?"

"Whatever we can," Balin returned sombrely.

Bilbo looked back to the elf laying unconscious on the deck of the barge. "Thank you," Bilbo said to Balin as he, for what seemed like the hundredth time, checked the elf lady for signs of injury. As he did, he noticed there was something missing: her circlet. She had been wearing it this morning when she had shown him the way to the cellars and the cells. Where had it gone? Surely, the dwarves hadn't taken it to sell! Bilbo shook his head at the thought. He dared not think so badly of his companions.


	17. Chapter 17: A Barge and a Bank

Chapter Seventeen

Balin walked over to settle himself by Thorin, who was looking out at the lake, as he asked, "Why would you risk our escape to take her, Thorin?"

"She would have risked our escape if we had left her, Balin. She could have called the guards," Thorin defended, keeping his eyes fixed on the fog that surrounded the barge.

"But she didn't, Thorin. She had the opportunity, but she did _not_ take it," Balin reasoned with the unreasonable dwarf.

"Then perhaps she is dim," Thorin suggested with a snort. Both of them knew that he did not mean this, even not seeing the true depths to which Thorin was willing to plunge for the elf woman.

Balin turned to shoot a look at his king and say, "You know very well she is anything but dim." If Thorin truly believed that the elf princess was his One, he would do well to stop speaking of her in such a fashion.

Thorin sighed and turned to press his back against the side of the barge. "Yes..." he nearly whispered as his mind turned to actually think of her rather than excuses for spiriting her away from her father's kingdom.

"Did you know that she led Bilbo to the keys? And then to the cells? She _knew_ he was there, and she didn't reveal him to her father, and then. You Took. Her." Balin accused his King seriously.

Thorin glanced up at his advisor with a guilty look on his morose face. Thorin looked down to his hands on his lap and said hollowly, "I couldn't risk not seeing her again, Balin. Not when I am _finally_ near her again."

"Thorin, her father will rain down his wrath upon us _all_ because of this," Balin warned Thorin.

"I know, Balin," Thorin ground out as his anger sparked at the thought of the elf king. "But, I _will not_ be separated from my One again!"

Balin sighed and looked away from his King toward the waters surrounding the barge, watching the ripples as it cut through the water.

* * *

"So, a bargeman of Lake Town," Bilbo began, settling along the edge of the barge beside the man.

"Aye," the bargeman confirmed briefly.

"What is your name?" Bilbo asked.

"Bard," the man answered simply.

"Well, I am Bilbo Baggins, at your service," Bilbo introduced himself politely.

"It would appear, Bilbo, as though I am at your service," Bard observed blandly.

Bilbo nodded and chuckled briefly, saying, "That you are."

"Who is the elf?" Bard questioned, gesturing with a nod to the unconscious elf-maid still laying on the deck of his barge.

Bilbo glanced over at the elf princess that had helped him and said uncertainly, "Uh, she is...from Mirkwood. She's travelling with us."

"Is that right?" Bard questioned the hobbit with a knowing look. "No one I know would travel in a dress like that."

Bilbo knew that Bard was right in this. Mirilas still wore her gown of grey silk. With the layers of wet fabric the gown entailed, there was no way the elleth could move freely in it. Bilbo wrung his hands as he quickly vacillated between keeping the secret of her identity from this man or revealing to him just who he was helping to kidnap.

In a split-second decision, Bilbo defended the dwarves in saying, "We just had to leave quickly." There. He had not betrayed the dwarves, but he had not lied either. "Do you know any elves?" Bilbo asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the elf lady.

Bard snorted softly before saying, "No, I don't."

"Maybe, elven ladies still wear dresses like that when they travel," Bilbo suggested before he realised that he had just revealed to the bargeman that she was a lady.

"A lady?" Bard asked speculatively.

Bilbo shut his lips tight and nodded once before trotting off to the other side of the barge in the hope of not revealing anything further of the dwarves and their venture.

* * *

Tauriel bounded past a dead animal in a pool of its own blood. An orc shaft was still stuck in its side. As she moved to set her eyes on the river, a glint of silver caught her eyes. Tauriel stopped, stooping down to peer into the bloody water.

There, sitting at the bottom of this gruesome pool, was a familiar elven circlet. The princess had worn this to Merethen Giliath. The dwarves must hve come to shore here.

As she pocketed the circlet, Tauriel heard something behind her, or rather someone. Subtly, she turned her head as her hands moved to her bow. Half a second later, she turned, drawing an arrow as she did. Legolas stood there, his own bow drawn and pointed at her.

"Im gannen le orch," (I thought you were an orc) she said, keeping her bow drawn.

"Cio hin, dan gan le," (If I were an orc, you would be dead) he responded before they both lowered their bows simultaneously. "Tauriel, you cannot hunt thirty orcs on your own," Legolas said, approaching the red-haired elleth.

"But, I'm not on my own," Tauriel responded with a look of determination.

Legolas could not stop the hint of a smile as he said, "You knew I would come."

Tauriel answered only with a smile.

"The King is angry, Tauriel. For six hundred years my father has protected you, favoured you. You defied his orders. You betrayed his trust," Legolas said, revealing exactly what Tauriel had feared when she left the Woodland Realm to hunt the orc pack. "Dan gono an im. Huin dihennatha," (Come back with me. He will forgive you,) Legolas asked.

"Uar hennathon," (But I will not,) Tauriel said determinedly, "Ki dan gwennathon, uar hennathon im." (If I go back, I will not forgive myself.) "The King has never let orc filth from our lands, yet he would let this orc pack cross our borders and kill our prisoners."

"It is not our fight," Legolas defended his father's decision. "My sister is."

"It is our fight," Tauriel protested. "It will not end here. With every victory, this evil will grow. If your father has his way, we will do nothing. We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light and let darkness descend. Are we not part of this world? Tell me, mellon, when did we let evil become stronger than us?" (friend)

"We are not doing nothing," Legolas said. "My father is preparing the army to march."

"To get your sister back, no more," Tauriel said.

"Not if I can convince him otherwise," Legolas insisted.

"There is only one person that can convince your father of anything, and she is on her way to that mountain as we speak," Tauriel disagreed, and they both knew that she was right.

"How do you know?" Legolas asked, perking up at the thought of information about his sister.

Wordlessly, Tauriel drew the bloody circlet from her pocket. Legolas stared at it in horror, seeming ready to drop to his knees and mourn her on the spot.

"It is animal blood," Tauriel assured her friend quickly.

"How can you be sure?" Legolas demanded in anguish, hurrying over to his friend.

"I found it over there in a pool of animal blood," Tauriel said, gesturing to the animal carcass.

Legolas swiped the circlet from the elleth's hand and clutched it tightly in his hand, staring at it as if it was his sister's hand. "If they hurt her, I will kill them," he snarled, looking up at Tauriel with fierce eyes.

Tauriel shook her head as she placed a hand atop Legolas's. Her brows knitted in sympathy as she assured her friend, "They would not dare to hurt her."

Legolas's eyes changed, becoming more worried and less malicious. Legolas quietly admitted, sounding almost in pain, "I am less afraid that they will hurt her...than that I will never see her again."

Tauriel engulfed her friend in a warm embrace, trying to comfort him as she said, "I did not know you missed her so."

Legolas held her close as he admitted, "My father was more open about this. He locked himself in her chamber and drank himself into oblivion...I have not told anyone, but...I have suffered...as much as he."

Tauriel rubbed the elf prince's back as she assured him, "We will find her, mellon nin." (my friend)

Legolas pulled his feelings back inside as he promised both himself and his sister that he _would_ find her, that every one of the dwarves would die if that was what it took to return his sister home.


	18. Chapter 18: A Little Town on a Lake

Chapter Eighteen

Mirilas wearily opened her eyes. She could tell from the heaviness of her limbs that she was still not recovered, though the aching feeling in her bones had receded somewhat. She pressed her hands down behind her and started to sit up, expecting to feel the silk of her sheets. Instead, her hands were met with rough wood. The elleth frowned as she looked around only to shrink back in surprise from the two dwarves standing at her side.

This forced her to remember what had happened. Mirilas closed her eyes and sighed. "Dwarves," she said in bemusement.

One of the dwarves said kindly to her, "You should lie back, Miss. You're still hurt."

As she obligingly laid back down, Mirilas heard a gasp from behind her. "You're awake," an unfamiliar voice said.

"Who are you?" Mirilas asked neutrally, turning to see a man steering this barge. The must be on the lake, but were they going to Esgaroth or to Erebor?

"I am Bard," he answered, glancing to the bald dwarf grumbling on the opposite end of the barge before looking to the fisherman not too far off. He hurried over to the dwarves, saying, "The money. Quick!"

"We will pay you when we get our provisions and not before," Thorin said from above Mirilas, giving her the sudden urge to hit him. She controlled this urge and glared at the dwarf prince instead.

"If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say. There are guards ahead," Bard said in earnest.

The dwarves turned to look at the town just barely visible through the heavy fog. "What is your plan?" Mirilas asked, ignoring the dwarves and carefully standing.

"The dwarves need to be in the barrels. I can get fish to cover them, but I need that money," Bard said quietly to the elf, trying not to become mesmerised by her eyes as she watched him.

"And me?" Mirilas asked as the oldest of the dwarves turned back to count out some coins, likely to pay this Bard. This dwarf seemed practical enough. Perhaps, she could reason with him into letting her go. Maybe this man could help with that...

"The Master will not deny entrance to an elf," Bard said dismissively.

"That makes me a...messsenger?" Mirilas asked as the dwarves turned back one by one to look at their leader Thorin.

"If you wish," Bard said with a shrug before saying more loudly to the dwarves, "You need to get into the barrels."

Just as when they were in the cellars, the dwarves began to argue amongst themselves. They seemed particularly prone to such disagreements. It seemed a wonder they ever got anywhere.

Mirilas squeezed her eyes shut to stop herself from rolling her eyes as her teachers had taught her long ago. "Just do it!" she exclaimed over the dwarves in exasperation.

Many of the dwarves looked at her as though surprised a princess would act so impertinently. The rest looked to Thorin, who nodded with a sour look on his face before climbing into the nearest barrel. The rest of the dwarves soon followed suit. They really were an amusing sight trying to climb into barrels almost as tall as they. Mirilas smirked at the sight, enjoying this small piece of vindication for the dwarves' treatment of her.

* * *

"We're approaching the toll gate," Bard announced to the elf as they approached the town.

Mirilas nodded to the man. Then, she frowned as she surveyed the peculiar, little town on the lake. The town was smaller and shabbier than she had thought, though she could only compare it with her home, Imadris, Lorien, and Erebor. None were fair comparisons.

At the very least, the town had clearly suffered since Smaug had taken the Lonely Mountain for himself. The wooden platforms on which the town was built were worn with age where once they had been of high quality. Everything she could see of the town had this same air of previous quality decayed to its present state.

"Halt!" a call came from ahead. "Goods inspection! Papers please!" A man in worn clothing came out of the first building of the town, holding a lantern in the dim morning light filtered through the heavy fog. "Oh, it's you, Bard!" the man called in recognition as he saw the bargeman. He had not yet noticed her.

"Morning, Percy," Bard called familiarly.

"Anything to declare?" this Percy asked jovially.

"I have a guest from Thranduil's people," Bard said, gesturing to the elf beside him.

"My lady," the man said, awkwardly bowing his head and clearly unsure of the protocol in this situation.

"Mr Percy," Mirilas replied with a kind smile, inclining her head to the man.

Percy moved forward to take some papers from Bard's outstretched hand, briefly disappearing into the little building with them. When he returned, he said while returning the papers, "There we are. All in order."

Before Bard could take the papers from Percy, a particularly ugly man dressed all in black came up behind Percy and snatched the papers from his hand, saying in a tone of self-entitlement, "Not. So. Fast." The man looked over the papers and read from them, "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm. Only, they're not empty, are they, Bard?"

As the hunched man stepped forward toward the bargeman, several much better-dressed guards came up behind him, appearing as though they were under this rat-like man's control. "If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman, _not_ a fisherman." As he spoke, the man grabbed one of the fish and held it up to Bard's face.

"Tell me, Little Man," Mirilas called from aboard the barge, using her noble bearing to her advantage. "Would you risk this town's...feeble trade partnership by impeding the official business of King Thranduil?"

The man blanched at the thought. "Of course not, my lady," he said, stammering at first but quickly resuming his snooty demeanour.

"Then let us pass," Mirilas demanded, attempting to channel her father's coldness.

The little man clenched his teeth but refused to glare at the elf. This little she-elf could jeopardise his position here! After a couple seconds, he smiled an obsequious, little smile and said mockingly to Bard, "On your way, _Bargeman._ Do not keep the Lady _Elf_ waiting!"

Bard silently obeyed, steering the barge onward into lake town.


	19. Chapter 19: Sneaking

Chapter Nineteen

Once the guards and the rat-man were out of ear-shot, Mirilas said, "What an irksome, oily, little man!"

Bard chuckled and said, "That was Alfrid. He works for the Master."

"About that, who is this Master?" Mirilas asked, turning to the man curiously.

"You live in the Woodland Realm, and you do not know of the Master?" Bard asked in surprise.

"Neither my father nor my teachers told me much of Lake Town. Apparently, trade relations with your town have remained the same since..." Mirilas said, drifting off as her mind turned to the dragon.

"Since the dragon took the Mountain?" Bard asked grimly.

Mirila nodded, carefully making eye contact with the bargeman. She offered little explanation, "Even in the Woodland Realm, we have not remained untouched by dragons..."

Bard looked curiously at the elf and said in surprise, "I was unaware that a dragon had attacked the Woodland Realm."

"He did not..." Mirilas said vaguely, turning away from the man to watch the buildings drift by as the barge moved through the canal to a little dock.

Bard shook off his confusion at the elf's vague answers to jump off his barge and moor it neatly to the dock. "Shall we?" he asked, knocking on one of the barrels.

Mirilas nodded solemnly and hopped off the boat as the dwarves sent fish spewing all over the barge as they climbed out of the barrels.. She was glad that soon they would arrive. She could feel the weariness beginning to seep back into her muscles.

"This way," Bard said kindly as he noticed her slowed movements. A tired elf? How unusual. Or, was she injured?

"Thank you," she whispered, falling in step beside him along the wooden walkway of the dock. Both of them could hear the dwarves follow, trying to stay quiet.

Bard stopped in front of the only man present at the docks, slipping a coin into his hand as he said, "You didn't see them. They were never here. The fish you can have for nothing."

"That was generous of you," Mirilas observed as he rejoined her at the lead of the group of dwarves.

"By the way, what is your name?" Bard asked as it occurred to him that he could not simply call her 'Elf', particularly as she seemed so much more reasonable than the pig-headed dwarves. He did not see the dwarves, and particularly Thorin, tense behind them at the possibility of the man discovering just why the Elf King wanted them so badly.

"Mirilas," the elleth answered deliberately.

Bard's eyes widened in recognition at her name. Her name was as well known as King Thranduil's in Lake Town. She was King Thranduil's daughter, and, according to the tales, the only person the elf king truly cared about other than himself.

"Jewel of the Forest..." Bard whispered to himself, thinking the name appropriate to the elven beauty before him. He turned in both disbelief and anger to the dwarves as he demanded of her, "You are Thranduil's daughter?!"

Mirilas frowned in confusion. "You have heard of me?"

Bard took that as confirmation and explained to her as his anger at the dwarves simmered inside, "All the people of Lake Town know of you: the daughter of the Elven King so beautiful that King Thranduil will not let any man see you for fear they would steal you away..."

"That is quite the legend," Mirilas observed, nearly laughing at the thought. She was under no illusions that her father was not overprotective, but this was an entirely different, and rather ridiculous, level. He would not do that to her.

Bard's step paused as he remembered the condition she was in when he first saw her: unconscious over the shoulder of a dwarf. Perhaps that legend was not entirely inaccurate... "Wait... Did they kidnap you?!" he demanded, grabbing her shoulders earnestly.

Momentarily stunned at his sudden rough treatment of her, Mirilas stared at the man in fear. He seemed to mean well...Maybe she could tell him? Would he help her? "I..." she began haltingly.

"Release her," Thorin ordered from behind her, strong arms folded over his chest in an attempt to appear commanding and kingly.

"Yes," she whispered, lowering her head to stop herself from crying.

Hesitantly as he was very unsure of how to act around an elf, Bard moved one of his hands from her shoulder to her hair, stroking the silky, silver tresses to comfort her. He did not count on how soothing the feeling was for him. He had missed having a woman in his life since the death of his wife. Bard shook these thoughts from his head as he gently assured the elf in a whisper, "I will not let them keep you."

Mirilas could no longer keep her tears back, so she quickly buried her face in the man's chest, seeking the comfort he offered. "Thank you," she said, coming out a muffled whisper.

"That's enough!" Thorin hissed, grabbing one of the man's wrists to pry his arms off the elf.

"Da!" the call of an adolescent boy came as footsteps approached them. Bard quickly released her. "Our house, it's being watched!" He stared at first the dwarves then the elf as he spoke. The young boy was clearly Bard's son from the resemblance between the two.

Seconds later, Bard had a new plan. After telling their leader the plan and how precisely to execute it, he, his son, and Mirilas separated from the dwarves and the hobbit to go to his home the conventional way. The elf subtly tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks as the humans led her through the little town.

Bard easily noticed and said to her as he walked, "Come now. An elf so fair should not cry so."

"So you are an elf?" the boy asked eagerly, peering at Mirilas.

"Yes," she answered gently. This seemed to excite the boy more. Mirilas gave a little chuckle through her tears before suddenly remembering what she had done for Legolas when he cried as a child. She may have been younger than him, but she knew how to make him smile again. That was what she needed.

The elf princess swiped a long, pale finger over her cheek, catching a few tears on the tip. Then, she held the tip of her finger to her lips and blew. A spray of ice spewed from her finger, stopping just short of the man and forming itself into a little ball that shifted and swirled as it took the form of a lily.

Mirilas gently took the ice lily in her hands and smiled as she brought the delicate structure to her face to survey her work. This flower was just as perfect as the many others she had created.

"How did you do that?" Bard asked.

Mirilas jolted back to awareness, releasing the spell on the ice and letting the flower drop to the wood below her feet. "I am sorry...I forgot you were there..." Mirilas admitted before explaining, "I used to do that for my brother when he would cry for our naneth..."

"You are a good older sister," Bard observed, not pushing her to explain the power she obviously possessed.

"Younger," Mirilas corrected gently as she wiped the rest of her tears from her cheeks and saying, "Shall we?"

The boy kept firing question after question at her the rest of the way to his family's house.


	20. Chapter 20: In the Door or Up the Toilet

Chapter Twenty

"In here," Bard said, opening the door to a house for her.

Mirilas nodded to him in thanks before stepping over the threshold into the man's home. Behind her, she heard a whistle before Bard called out to someone outside, "You can tell the Master I'm done for the day." At least, this man was clever enough to know who exactly was watching his house, as his son had said.

Once the man had stepped inside, a girl younger than his son called, "Da! Where have you been?" as she ran to hug him. Bard returned the hug warmly.

"Father!" another call came from a young woman. "I was worried!" She, too, hugged her father.

Once greetings were done, Bard's daughters the elf standing behind their father. "Who is that, Father?" the young woman asked as they both stared at her.

"Are you an elf?" the young girl asked.

"Yes," Mirilas replied evenly.

The young girl's face lit up into a huge smile as Bard looked to his son and said, "Bain, get them in."

A smile spread across Mirilas's face as she followed the boy to the back of the house. "I have to see this," she said eagerly. The younger girl followed her both out of curiosity for what her father was talking about and for the elf.

Bain led Mirilas to a little room at the back of the house. It was clearly a bathroom. Bain knocked on the wall twice as Mirilas settled against the wall. A second later, the bald dwarf's head stuck up out of the toilet as he growled, "If you _speak_ of this to anyone, I'll rip your arms off."

Mirilas burst out laughing.

Bain held out a hand to help the dwarf only for the burly dwarf to slap the hand away and hoist himself out of the toilet. Bain retracted his hand and said, pointing to the stairs that led to the house proper, "Up there."

Bilbo followed the bald dwarf out of the toilet, accepting Mirilas's offered hand before the bald dwarf slapped her hand away and grabbed the back of Bilbo's coat to pull him from the toilet, sending a glare her way as she did.

Mirilas could not stop herself from rolling her eyes this time. It seemed that Bilbo noticed because after righting himself, the hobbit stopped beside the elf rather than ascending the stairs to say in a rather conspiratorial whisper, "Don't take it personally. He's always like that."

Mirilas smiled gratefully at the hobbit as the dwarves started passing them one by one. "Come, Bilbo," she said gently, putting a hand on his back to lead him up the stairs into the house.

"Stop!" a low command came from behind them before they were half way up the stairs.

Mirilas sighed before calling behind her, "Calm down, Thorin."

The dwarf behind her huffed as she continued to lead the hobbit up the stairs.

* * *

Bard left Thorin's Company in his kitchen as he went off in search of extra coats and blankets for the dwarves. While he was away, the dwarves wrung out their sopping clothes and set them before the fire to dry, perfectly content in their underclothes while they waited.

Mirilas blushed and looked away when Thorin stepped in front of her in little more than a tunic. The dwarf prince's ego swelled at his captive's reaction to his bared muscles. He could not capitalise on this situation, but he could enjoy her blushes a little longer and have an actual conversation with her. "Are you not cold, Elf?" he asked, much of his usual anger and bitterness absent from his voice.

"Not at all...Thorin," Mirilas assured him, turning to look out the window at the town.

However, between her and the window was another dwarf. This one had a long, salt and pepper beard. Mirilas raised her eyebrows at him before glancing at the other dwarf, apparently a healer to some degree as he was grinding up an herb with a mortar and pestle. "Eat this, Miss," he said, holding the crushed herb out to her.

Mirilas looked at the herb suspiciously before recognizing it as feverfew. Only then did she pluck the leave from the dwarf and drop them into her mouth. After swallowing the leaves down, she asked, not daring to look at Thorin in his current state of undress, "Why did you take me?"

The healer dwarf shrugged and said apologetically, "Thorin said to." Apparently, that answer was enough for him as he wandered away from the reluctant patient and his leader.

"Well?" Mirilas asked, hesitantly glancing at Thorin, who was staring at her wordlessly. "What?" she asked with a frown.

"Your dress, it's soaked...You should remove it..." Thorin said, sounding more concerned for her health than lecherous at the prospect of seeing her nearly undressed.

The elf looked at the dwarf in surprise. Did he actually care for her? Was that why he had taken her? Pity welled up in her as she thought of how her father would crush him with no care for his regard for her as soon as he arrived. "I will be fine," Mirilas said, refusing to undress herself in front of these dwarves.

Thorin looked as though he was about to argue with her, but he was prevented from doing so by an interruption.

"Here," Bard's voice said from the doorway. Both his and his younger daughter's arms were filled with coats and blankets. "They may not be the best fit, but they'll keep you warm."

"Thank you," Bilbo offered as he accepted one of the coats and wrapped it around himself.

Mirilas refused the coat offered her before turning back to the dwarf prince, who now stared out the window as though someone had walked over his grave. "A dwarvish windlance..." he breathed in recognition.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Bilbo said, walking over to Thorin to see what had caught his attention.

"He has," the older-looking dwarf said, coming up behind the hobbit.

Bilbo turned to the dwarf, looking for an explanation. The dwarf explained, "The last time we saw such a weapon, the city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came, the day that Smaug destroyed Dale. Girion, Lord of the city, rallied his bowmen to fire on the beast, but a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armour. Only a black arrow fired from a windlance could have pierced the dragon's hide, and few of those arrows were ever made. The store was running low when Girion made his last stand."

Shivers went up Mirilas's hide as she remembered just how close she had come to being killed in that destruction. Smaug had come to Dale mere days after she and her father had visited Erebor to pay homage to Thror.

"Had the aim of men been true that day, much would have been different," Thorin commented, looking over to the other dwarf.

"You speak as if you were there," Bard said suspiciously. Did he not know who these dwarves were?

"All dwarves know the tale," Thorin said. While that was likely true, Mirilas knew this was a deflection to the truth that they were dwarves of Erebor.

"Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot, and he would have killed the beast," Bain said, unknowingly providing the dwarves with information that was crucial to their quest.

The bald dwarf scoffed sadly from behind the two humans and said, "That is a fairy story, Lad. Nothing more."

"You took our money, where are the weapons?" Thorin asked, approaching the humans.

"Wait here," Bard said, giving the dwarf leader a long look before walking down to the back of the house again.

Minutes later, the dwarves were looking over the crude weapons that Bard had smuggled to them. They were not pleased.


	21. Chapter 21: Discovered

Chapter Twenty-One

This was one of the times in which Mirilas wondered how she had managed to get herself into such an odd situation. The white-haired dwarf and the bald dwarf stood beside her outside the armoury of Lake Town while Thorin and most of the other dwarves were inside, stealing swords and axes. She had been trying to decide whether she wanted the dwarves caught or not. She could easily call out and have them discovered in the process of robbing the armour, but they did still deserve a chance to reclaim their home. But, they had kidnapped her from her home. Thus far, they had treated her fairly kindly, aside from not allowing her to return to her family. Come to think of it, they would probably use her to negotiate with her father once (or rather, _if_ ) they reclaimed their home from the dragon.

Mirilas's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud clang from inside the armoury. It sounded like a number of weapons were dropped.

Soon after, there were shouts heading their way along with the pounding of approaching footsteps. The guards were coming.

In very little time, the entire Company plus the elf were herded to a little, wooden plaza in front of the largest house in town, likely the Master's house. While the dwarves and the hobbit had been treated roughly and manhandled, the guards had not even raised a sword against the elf or even laid a finger on her. However, it was still clear that she was to go with them. She briefly wondered if they would dare use force against her.

The leader of the guards, which was apparent to everyone from his pompous helmet, stopped at the head of the group as a tall man of large girth strode out of the house. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded as he shrugged on a coat.

"Caught 'em stealing weapons, Sire," the lead guard said, looking back at the dwarves.

"Ah! Enemies of the state, eh?" the man said, looking over the dwarves.

"Looks like a bunch o' mercenaries if ever there was, Sire," Alfrid said contemptuously from behind the lumbering man.

"Hold yer tongue!" the bald dwarf (she really must learn his name) spat out. He walked forward from the semicircle of dwarves as he said with just as much contempt as the Master, "You do not know to whom you _speak._ This is no common _criminal._ This is Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror!" The people of Lake Town that were crowded around the outside of the guards surrounding the dwarves were all atwitter at this revelation.

"We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland...I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbour, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the centre of all trade in the North! I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!" By this point, the people were crying out in agreement with the dwarf prince.

However, a familiar yell came from behind them. "Death!" Bard made his way through the cros, the guards, and the dwarves to stand beside the dwarf prince as he said, "That is what you will bring upon us. Dragon fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all."

"You can listen to this nay-sayer, but I promise you this: if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the Mountain," Thorin said, playing on the crowd's agreement with his goal.

Mirilas scoffed at the very thought of a dwarf sharing treasure with these people. Thankfully, it was covered up by the cries of the people, though Bilbo glanced her way.

"You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!" Thorin called out to the crowd.

Bard shouted over the people's cries, "All of you! Listen to me! You must listen! Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm? And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain king? So riven by greed, he cannot see beyond his own desire!"

The Master played on the people's fears and said, "Now, now. We must not any of us be too quick to lay blame! Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, _your ancestor_ , that failed to kill the beast!"

"It's true, Sire," Alfrid said accusingly as Thorin looked to Bard with judging eyes. "We all know the story. Arrow after arrow he shot, each one missin' its mark." The people were beginning to protest again.

Bard turned to face the dwarf prince as he said lowly, "You have no right , _no right_ , to enter that mountain."

Thorin leaned in slightly and said lowly to the man, "I have the only right." He then turned back to the Master at the top of the stairs. "I speak to the Master of the men of the lake. Would you see the prophecy fulfilled?" Prophecy? There was a prophecy about their return? "Will you share in the great wealth of our people? What say you?"

The plaza was silent as the Master said, "I say unto you...WELCOME!" The Master spread his arms wide, and a great shout went up among the crowd. "Welcome! And thrice welcome, King Under the Mountain!" he continued. So the dwarf prince was a king now...

Just then, the Master looked over to her and made a small motion with his hand to the guard beside her. The guard tried to take hold of her arms in answer, but the dwarf beside her, the young, blonde one, shoved the guard back and placed an arm around the elf's waist. She doubted he could reach any more appropriate areas to hold her. At least, she would not be in the company of that obsequious, little grease ball of a man if she were with the dwarves, though she would greatly prefer going home.


	22. Chapter 22: Drinking

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Thorin, another?" the bald dwarf, whose name she had learnt was Dwalin, asked his leader from across the table. She was glad that there was a table between them. While not clumsy exactly, this dwarf's movements had slowed and become more fumbling as he drank and drank.

"Aye. Tonight, we celebrate," Thorin said with a wide smile, unconsciously gripping the elleth's waist a little tighter.

A couple of the barmaids that had been plying the many dwarves with ale heard this and smiled lascivious smiles at the thought. They were clearly eager to bed some of the dwarves and earn a few extra coins. As the elf noticed this, an idea formed in her mind. She looked to one of them, hoping to make eye contact.

When the barmaid finally looked at the elleth, Mirilas raised her eyebrows at her before nodded subtly to Thorin. The barmaid smirked and nodded before sauntering over to the dwarf prince with a tankard in one hand and the other pulling her worn blouse down to expose more cleavage. "Another, my Lord?" she asked, batting her long eyelashes at Thorin as she leaned forward for his eyes to feast on her offerings.

"Thank you," Thorin said dismissively, waving the barmaid away without a single look at her assets. The barmaid pouted before sending an apologetic look to the elf. She would have to get herself out of this mess on her own.

"Do you want any, Lass?" the dwarf that had given her feverfew (Bifur, was it?) asked kindly, offering a fresh tankard to her, but how could she free herself from a dwarf whose hands started to rove over more and more of her body when he was drunk?

Mirilas gently shook her head and said, "No, thank you, Master Dwarf."

"Probably just as well, Bifur. Little thing like her probably can nae hold 'er liquor," Dwalin said playfully, lumbering to a seat on the bench beside Bifur.

Mirilas scoffed. "You dwarves think elves cannot drink?" she asked derisively. She could have laughed at the thought. They had clearly never tried Dorwinion wine, which her father so favoured.

"Are ye saying that ye can?" Dwalin asked, clearly thinking he was still the superior drinker.

"Of course, I can," Mirilas said, pulling the tankard toward her and draining it in one draught. She supposed the ale was adequate in a rustic sort of way, though it was too acidic for her tastes. As she delicately set the tankard back on the table, she said, "I can certainly drink better than a dwarf."

"Prove it, then," Dwalin said with a smirk. She could not wait to wipe that smirk from his face. He had taunted her for the last time.

"Who am I to drink against? You are already half drunk," Mirilas said, observing his glassy eyes. She would need a better challenger than Dwalin if she were to convince any of them to stop mocking her.

"I will," Thorin said. He had hardly drank more than two or three drinks so far, a far cry from the eight that Dwalin had consumed. It suddenly occurred to Mirilas that should Thorin get drunk and pass out, she might have a chance to escape, assuming he did not have the foresight to tie her up before he passed out. None of the dwarves watched her as Thorin did. They would likely not be an issue.

"Now ye've done it, Lass," the white-haired dwarf (had Dwalin called him Balin?) said to her in a kindly warning. "Thorin can hold his liquor with the best of them."

"Then, this will not be quite so boring," Mirilas returned.

Twenty tankards of ale later, the men of Lake Town in the tavern had all either gone home or passed out on the floor. Most of the dwarves had followed their example, save for Thorin, who looked near enough to being blind drunk that she would soon win this silly game. The barmaids had left ale out for their contest before making their way home for the most part with a willing man to warm their beds for the night. Mirilas fervently hoped that the dwarf prince passed out soon. They were almost out of ale.

Thorin had been babbling between drinks about a particularly lucrative bet he had once made with Kili, one of the youngest of their Company. As he grew drunker, his words slurred and his eyes glassed over. Now, though, he changed topics all at once.

"Diamonds. That's what you looked like..." he began as his forehead rested on the wood of the table between tankards. "There in Erebor like you belonged in the treasure hoard, safe, guarded, hidden away from unworthy eyes! That arrogant Elf King thought you were his! Took you...from _me_...And how I wanted you..." He had wanted her for that long?!

All at once, Thorin surged forward to grab her shoulders. After drunkenly steadying himself, he plunged a hand into her hair and knotted his fingers in the long, silver tresses. His other hand splayed over her back and pressed her closer as he yanked her head back by her hair and hissed into her ear, "You could have been mine! I would have married you! Showered you with gifts! Shown you where you truly belonged! With me!"

By now, Mirilas was openly crying as she struggled to free herself from Thorin. Her hands tried to push him away only for her hair to be pulled tighter, baring her throat to him. To her surprise, Thorin removed his hand from her back to stroke the smooth column of alabaster flesh. "I...I love..." he slurred out, his hot breath wafting over her neck. Then, all it once, the life seemed to flee from Thorin's body. He collapsed atop her and let out a snore as he passed out.

Mirilas sobbed in relief as she tried to pry his hands from her and push him off her to the floor. As soon as his body fell, she jumped to her feet and took off at a dead sprint, passing an oily, little man all in black at the tavern door.

"Elf!" a shout came from behind her, but she did not listen. She would not stop until she reached her goal.

Mirilas nearly pounded on the familiar door, hoping desperately that he was home, that he would help her. When the door finally opened, she sobbed and pleaded, "Help me, please."

Bard quickly enveloped her in his arms and drew her into his house as he assured her, "You are safe here."


	23. Chapter 23: Good Food and Good Company

Chapter Twenty-Three

"What are you making, Miri?" the young Tilda asked happily, bouncing over to the elleth at the stove. She had shortened the elf's name in an attempt to familiarize the elleth. She liked to think it made the princess almost a part of her little family.

"A vegetable stew," Mirilas answered, dipping the ladle into the pot to smell the cooking mixture. "It is ready."

The little girl squealed before bounding off to a cabinet, calling back, "I'll set the table!"

Mirilas smiled, remembering the last time she had been so excitable. A second later, she winced. She had not been an elfling in a long time, it seemed. "Bring the bowls over here, Tilda," she instructed gently, holding out a hand to receive the first.

As she ladled the stew into the bowls one by one, she handed them off to Tilda, who eagerly, and surprisingly carefully, set them on the table. Once the last bowl had been set, she called out eagerly, "Sigrid! Bain! Da! Supper's ready!"

The children eagerly raced to the table, having been smelling the aroma of the elf's cooking for some time and being more than eager to try it. Bard was the last to reach the table, looking up in thanks at the elf who had done this for his family. "Thank you, my lady," he said sincerely.

"You know you can call me Mirilas, Bard," Mirilas said with a smile as she gracefully lowered herself into their only extra chair.

"I call her Miri!" Tilda said through a mouthful of stew.

"Manners, dear," Mirilas chided gently before the child's father could say a word.

Tilda looked up at the elf with wide eyes before gulping down the food and saying, "Sorry..."

Mirilas turned to Bard and said apologetically, "I am sorry about before..Thorin was...Drunk..." She ended in a whisper, unwilling to admit to anyone just what she had feared Thorin would do.

"There is no need. You are welcome here," Bard assured her. He had recognized the fear in her eyes, a woman's fear of a man, of what he could do to her.

"Where did you learn to eat so pretty?" Tilda asked suddenly.

Mirilas chuckled at the girl's phrasing and said, "My father had both my brother and I instructed from an early age about etiquette."

The girl's eyes sparkled in wonder. "What else did you learn? Can you ride a horse? Can you dance? Can you-"

"One thing at a time," Mirilas said patiently. "I can ride a horse and dance. I can read ancient-"

"Can you teach me?" the girl asked.

Mirilas smiled again. She could not remember how long it had been since she had smiled this much. "I do not know how long I shall be here, but I shall teach you what I can until I leave," Mirilas said, not wanting to disappoint the girl.

"Wow! Lessons from a real princess!" she gushed.

"Can you fight?" Bain asked suddenly from across the table.

The elf's brow wrinkled in confusion, but she said, "I can, perhaps not so well as the others of my family or the guard, but I can using a bow and a sword."

"Can you teach me?" he asked, sounding much more serious and directed than his sister in her request.

Mirilas considered his request silently for a few seconds. He was still only a bow, and his father might not approve. However, with the dwarves on their way to the mountain tomorrow, a time might be coming when he would need to defend not only himself but his sisters and his home. "If your father approves," Mirilas said.

Bain immediately glanced to his father, who had been eating silently. "Da?" he asked.

Bard looked up from his bowl of stew to study first his son then the elf. Finally, he said, "Aye. He should learn."

* * *

"How did you come to be with the dwarves?" Bard asked after settling himself into a seat beside the fire. his children were asleep in their beds, and he had made it clear that there were some things he would know if she was to stay in his house.

"The dwarves were captured by my brother and his guards in the forest. He brought them to my father for questioning. When he learned who they were, he imprisoned them," Mirilas began.

"Would that he had kept them there!" Bard lamented.

"Indeed," Mirilas agreed. "The dwarves have a hobbit with them by the name of Bilbo. He was not captured with the dwarves. Somehow I know not he managed to sneak into my father's halls."

"That hobbit snuck past elves?" Bard asked, sounding impressed.

"Yes, well, I heard him walking. I confronted him and helped him to get the dwarves out," Mirilas said.

"How?"

Mirilas sighed. "I led him to where the keys were kept and then to the cells. Unfortunately, the dwarves discovered me before I could leave. Thorin decided that kidnapping an _elf_ would be a wonderful idea. They quite literally carried me down to the cellars, where I was shoved in a barrel along with them and floated down the river like a little _branch_."

"But how did they force you? You are an elf. You could have simply run from them," Bard pointed out.

"Not so," Mirilas dissented. "You remember what I did this morning?"

"The magic?" Bard asked.

"Yes. Well, I had exhausted most of my magic when I helped the dwarves escape. I was physically weakened from it. With their numbers and their strength, there was nothing I could do."

"What would you have done, if you had the energy?" Bard questioned.

"I have been learning to teleport," Mirilas said.

"That is a useful skill," Bard commented, sounding as though he already knew of several ways he could use such an ability.

"Indeed. However, it requires a great deal of magic. I am still too young to recuperate very quickly from overuse of my magic."

"How old are you?"

"I am 1632."

"I knew that elves were immortal, but you are _young_ , and you are _over a thousand_?!"

"Yes. My brother is a little over three hundred years older than me. My father is over seven thousand years of age," Mirilas said, giving the man a frame of reference.

"That is amazing," Bard breathed out finally. He supposed that when compared with an Elf King that had outlived two ages of this world, she could be considered young. He quickly wondered if elven childhoods were more prolonged as well. He sometimes thought he would give anything to have just a little more time with his children while they were still young.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Mirilas said, staring into the fire.


	24. Chapter 24: Longing

Chapter Twenty-Four

Soft hands smoothed over hard flesh, stroking with a feather-light touch that would soon drive him wild. "Wake up, my love," the beautiful elleth called alluringly. Her precious head laid on his chest where he knew it had always belonged, and her hands smoothed over his stomach, moving lower, and lower...

The dwarf prince reached out to stroke the shining silver hair before him, admiring the softness now that it was dry. "I love you, my Mirilas," he rumbled, sneaking his other hand up to rest on the curve of her hip. The skin there was supple as he stroked it, as was the skin of her thighs...

"Playful this morning, my husband?" the elleth asked with a lustful grin as her hand grasped his growing girth.

The dwarf grunted in pleasure before rumbling out, "It would seem that you are, too, my wife."

The elleth began to laugh then. It was a familiar laugh, but not hers. He had heard her laugh only once, and that had been at his and his Company's expense. Hers was a higher pitched and light laugh, a pure sound. This laugh was darker, lower, crueller. Her father's laugh!

Thorin bolted awake, nearly throwing his body into the bench at his side. The headache from the night's drinking hit him while he squeezed his eyes shut to erase the sight of her father's laugh coming from that delicate elleth, _his_ precious elleth. The dwarf groaned and sank back to the floor as he took in his surroundings, grateful that her father's laugh had at least taken care of the tent in his trousers. He had been passed out on the floor of the tavern. Many of his company lay around him on or under the tables of the tavern, but one person was notably missing, the only person he wanted to see.

A deep and chilling sorrow struck him first. She had left him...Again...His heart broke a little more at the thought, clenching in his chest like a vice. He was sure the shards were slowly poisoning him, his soul. It was the only explanation for how he had been acting, what he had been thinking. Had this been his last chance to have her? It felt like his only chance...

Fury enveloped the dwarf. He had let her escape. _They_ had let her escape! How had no one stopped her?! She could already be back in the arms of her father! Laughing at them! At him! Ready to send an army to take _his_ birthright from him!

In his anger, Thorin began to roughly wake his fellows, shaking their shoulders or kicking their feet to rouse them. Not all were here, but there were enough to make the final preparations and get to the boat. They would get o Erebor before any army elves could march on the Mountain.

* * *

Feren wiped his brows of sweat. Loading wagons and running every which way around the kingdom as a messenger was harder work than he was accustomed to. While he was strong enough to carry his lady whenever she needed and to defend her, he had never had the same endurance of the guards.

Several days without rest or even a short respite from his duties had revealed to him why the King had assigned him to these duties. Galion had indeed run him ragged. That had clearly been part of his intent, though in an odd sort of way Feren was grateful to be doing something that could aid the return of his lady. He was at fault for allowing the dwarves to take the princess, and the guilt could have consumed him if Galion had not kept him more than busy. As it was, Feren was fairly certain that the King would never allow him to retake his former position with his lady if they even managed to retrieve her from the dwarves.

The servant had cherished his time with the King's daughter. His memories had not been of grand events like now but rather simpler things like teaching her a few recipes when she was reluctant to leave their talan (flet) in Lorien. She had made few friends there what with the demands of training with the Lady Galadriel and continuing to practice archery and swordsmanship with Helluin and Ascar.

Feren frowned at the thought of her two guards. They would be arriving within a few days, though even if they pushed the horses, they would not, could not arrive before the army marched. If he knew those two at all, they would follow the army. Mirilas was out there somewhere unprotected. They would not leave her there.

The servant knocked on the King's door, waiting to be allowed in. Once a call came from within, he strode into the King's rooms and bowed before saying, "All is prepared, my Lord."

"Good. Tell Galion and Celon we march," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

"I will, my Lord," Feren said with a bow before scurrying out in search of the Steward and the General.

"Feren," the Elven King called suddenly just before the servant reached the door.

Feren paused and turned back to his King. "Yes, my Lord?" he asked. What more could he want?

"You have packed her robe and a gown, have you not?" Thranduil asked. He had refused to say his daughter's name since she was caught, probably because he would rather work on getting her back than be confronted by her loss.

"I have, my Lord," Feren said as regret and worry seeped into his tone.

"If- _when_ we bring her back...You may resume your duties with her," Thranduil said, his tone softening.

"Thank you, my Lord," Feren said with the utmost gratefulness. He had not been sure what he could make of his long life if he could not at least serve his lady.

"You may go," the Elven King said with a knowing look. He would give the servant just a little longer to celebrate the reclaiming of his position before his army departed in search of the dwarves who had been so foolish as to cross him.


	25. Chapter 25: Dragons Know Power

Chapter Twenty-Five

A knock sounded on the door to Bard's house. Bard sighed and shuffled to the door. These last days had been eventful. What more could there be?

When he opened the door, there were four dwarves standing there. "No," the man hissed, trying to close the door on them. "I'm done with dwarves. Go away." The elf was still here, and he would not let the dwarves have her again.

"No! No! No!" the kind dwarf called, trying to stop Bard from closing the door on them. "Please. no one will help us!" Bard stopped putting force into closing the door as the dwarf said, "Kili's sick. He's very sick."

Bard hesitated. These dwarves had helped the elf, as little as Thorin would allow, while they had been here. They had been kind, tried not to be a bother. And, this Kili looked as if he might die. He had to help them.

"Come in," Bard sighed, moving aside so that the dwarves could carry their fellow in and lay him out on the table.

Hearing this commotion, Mirilas hurried in from the back of the house where she had been teaching Tilda the steps to a popular elven dance, urging Bard's children to stay out of the kitchen until she knew what was going on. She would not risk children.

The dwarves were already setting about cleaning Kili's wound when Mirilas entered, crossing the room to stand at Bard's side and ask in a whisper, "What are they doing here?!"

"That one is dying," Bard said as the dwarven healer fussed over his patient.

"Kili, his name is Kili," Mirilas said before letting out a huff and striding over to the dwarves. "Let me see the wound," she instructed. "I may be able to help him."

The kind dwarf and Kili's brother, the blonde dwarf, turned to stare at the elf while Bifur, the healer, continued his work. "You would help us?" Kili's brother asked with hope.

"I will do what I can," Mirilas answered, pushing his hands away from the wound. The elf hissed as she recognized the look of the wound. The flesh had turned black, which only happened with one type of poison. "I need athelas," Mirilas said, turning to Bifur, who shook his head with no recognition in his eyes. "Bard, do you know of athelas?" she asked, turning to the man.

"Athelas?" he asked, unfamiliar with the name.

"Kingsfoil?" Mirilas asked, switching to the other name for the plant.

"Aye! Kingsfoil! That should help!" Bifur exclaimed in recognition.

"It's a weed. We feed it to the pigs," Bard said, not understanding why they would want such a plant.

"Pigs?" the kind dwarf asked, "Right."

He was off at a run out the door with the elf behind him asking, "Have you seen pigs here?"

"Aye, I have," the dwarf answered in a puff.

"Lead on, Dwarf," she instructed, easily keeping pace with him. Her heart momentarily lifted at how much better her muscles felt today. She was nearly recovered!

"Bofur," the dwarf huffed out, "I'm Bofur."

"Bofur," Mirilas said, finding that the name fit the dwarf quite well.

Soon enough, Mirilas spotted several pigs with her superior vision. She quickly picked up her pace, easily passing the dwarf and jumping the canal to land beside the happily munching pigs. She plucked a good-sized stalk of athelas from one of the animals and leapt back before setting out at a run for Bard's house with Bofur following behind.

Before they could reach the house, an orc popped out in front of the elf, sweeping its crude axe down toward her head. Mirilas quickly dodged it and sent out a wave of magic, pushing it into the water and pull it down to the depths.

* * *

Bilbo hesitantly walked over the gold and jewels of the treasure hold, trying to stay as quiet as possible so that he did not wake the dragon. His eyes scanned the treasure, finding many white gems but none that fit Balin's description. There were many sizes of gems, but none shone with their own life. They were all ordinary.

All at once, the gold coins began to move, flowing down the mountain of gold to reveal a gigantic, reptilian eye closed in sleep. Bilbo hustled to hide behind one of the many pillars. As he tried to become one with the pillar, the gold started to shift around him, sliding this way and that. The hobbit knelt to think for a second, taking a gold cup into his hand to fidget with. As he did, the gold moved again, revealing an enormous dragon head behind him. The eyelids opened, revealing a secondary set of eyelids that quickly opened to reveal a golden eye. Smaug was awake.

Bilbo launched himself behind the pillar again. All was quiet save for the light tinkling of gold from the direction of the eye. Soon, that, too, stopped. As the hobbit lay on his back, he picked the little, gold Ring from his pocket and slipped it on, hoping to disappear before the dragon used his smell to find him.

The gold began to shift again. This time, dragon head rose high up into the air above him as Smaug unburied himself and sniffed at the air. "Well..." Smaug rumbled as his head swung around heading straight toward Bilbo. "Thief..." the dragon accused. "I smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air."

As the dragon spoke, his entire body shook off the gold and jewels. The dragon slowly lumbered around the pillar, slowly waking. "Where are you?" the dragon asked, wrapping his head back around the pillar and looking carefully for the hobbit. "Where are you?" the dragon asked again, pressing only some of his magic onto the intruder and increasing the pressure until suddenly Bilbo took off at a run.

Smaug followed Bilbo down the mountain of gold. The coins slid around the hobbit, creating a small avalanche of glittering yellow. Bilbo slipped behind another pillar as the dragon slid down the gold after him. However, as he stopped, the dragon stopped. "Come now. Don't be shy. Step into the light," the dragon urged, still looking around for him.

"There is something about you. Something you carry. Something made of _gold_ ," the dragon said in recognition, beginning to press down on the intruder with his magic again, this time with more force and compulsion. "But far more _precious_."

Suddenly, the hobbit yanked the Ring from his finger, no longer able to stand the weight of the dragon's spell. As he stared at the Ring in confusion, the dragon peered down at him and said, "There you are, thief in the shadows."

"I-i did not come to steal from you, oh Smaug the...unassessably wealthy," the hobbit stuttered out, thinking back to the stories of dragons being fond of riddles and flattery. "I merely wanted to gaze on your magnificence. I only wanted to see if you were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them."

Smaug drew up to his full height, flexing his wings out to ask grandly, "And do you now?"

"Truly," Bilbo answered, looking up in awe and horror at the huge dragon before him. "Tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, oh Smaug the stupendous."

"Pretty flattery will not keep you alive," Smaug warned the hobbit before continuing, "You smell familiar, yet I have never smelled your kind before. What are you? Who are you?"

Bilbo thought quickly, but as he did, a glowing white stone caught his eyes. The Arkenstone! Bilbo carefully started walking toward it as he said, "I...I come from under the hill...and under hills and over hills my path has led...and, and, and through the air...I am he who walks unseen."

"Impressive titles," Smaug commented. "Go on."

"I am luck wearer," Bilbo continued. "B-barrel rider."

"Barrels? So, you were sent by those sniveling lake men? And what of your little dwarf friends? And that delightful elf smell? Hmm? Where are they hiding?"

"D-d-dwarves?" Bilbo asked, deliberately sounding as though he had never heard the word before. "No, no, no dwarves here," he refuted. "You've got that all wrong."

"Oh, I don't think so. I know the taste of dwarf, just like I know the smell of wood elf. Those pathetic dwarves are drawn to the treasure like flies to dead flesh! And y-"

Suddenly, the dragon's head pricked up, his attention far from the little hobbit attempted to burgle treasure from him. Smaug had not sensed such magic in over a hundred years. That magic had guided him to this mountain, and here it was again. The flavour of this magic was very familiar. He knew what he sensed, as any dragon would. He had to claim it before any other dragons came to claim the Dragon Jewel! This power would be his!

Before the hobbit could draw the dragon's attention back to him, the dragon crawled out of the hoard, knocking down a pillar in his haste. Bilbo stared after the dragon in confusion before rushing forward to grab the Arkenstone and stuff it into his coat. This was an unexpected stroke of luck.


	26. Chapter 26: Radagast

Chapter Twenty-Six

Seconds after her first spell, Mirilas felt a tremour in the earth from the direction of the Mountain. Elrond had been right! Smaug could sense her magic! And he was awake!

"Bofur! Take the athelas back to Kili!" she yelled at the dwarf, taking up a defensive stance.

"What about you?" he asked, looking back at her where she was surrounded by orcs.

"I'll be fine. Go!" she called, calling her magic up. She felt it swirl around her, eager to do her biding, and smiled. A second later, the orcs were flying away from her. Most landed in the canal, where their armour and weapons pulled them deep under the water faster than they could swim up. Only two remained, and they were stunned. But, more were coming.

Mirilas slowly fought her way back to Bard's house. Just as she killed some of the orcs, others that she had stunned would recover and attack her once more. They seemed set upon her death, though she expected nothing less of an orc pack.

Finally, the house was in sight, but so was a familiar shock of long, blonde hair. "Legolas! Hanar!" (Brother!) she exclaimed, fighting her way to the front of the house to throw her arms around her brother in absolute relief.

"Nethig?" (Sister?) Legolas asked, opening his arms wide to receive her. "Nalye maan?" (Are you all right?) Legolas asked quietly in her ear, his eyes searching this way and that for any remaining orcs.

"Non eithil. Aia yrch na si? Aphadati i anfangrim?" (I am well. Why are there orcs here? Are they following the dwarves?) Mirilas asked in a rush, nearly refusing to let her brother let her go.

"I yrch na an i Pen," (The orcs serve the One) Legolas explained quickly.

"Na Ada istan?" (Does Father know?) Mirilas asked worriedly.

Legolas nodded, breaking away from her.

"Nathar Ada-" (Will Father-?) she began to ask.

"Ad alnathar," (He will not) Legolas answered, understanding her unspoken question about his intention to intervene.

"Celo lye," (Go after them,) she said then, glancing to the bridge, where she had seen several of the orcs flee.

Legolas nodded at his sister, promising quickly, "Tolthariad an lye." (I will return for you.)

"Gelir rui!" (Happy hunting!) she called after him before turning to the house and the fearful children inside.

"Miri!" Tilda called, racing to the elf to hug her around the waist and burrow her head in the elleth's stomach.

"Where is your father?" Mirilas asked, noticing immediately that only Sigrid and Tilda were in the house. "And Bain?"

"Da has a black arrow. He's going to use it to kill the dragon," Sigrid explained, sounding much less composed than normal.

"He has one? It is a chance..." Mirilas said speculatively.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Mirilas sighed and detached Tilda's arms from her waist to answer the door, hoping it was not another dwarf or an agent of the Master. She was very surprised to see a familiar wizard standing before her.

"Radagast! What are you doing here?" Mirilas greeted, happy to see the wizard.

"We haven't much time, my girl. I must get you back to Gandalf. He needs our help," Radagast said with surprising seriousness for him.

"Gandalf? Where is he? What sort of trouble?" Mirilas asked, concerned for the other wizard. He had been her teacher when she had visited Imladris with her brother, though it had been Lord Elrond that had discovered the nature of her powers.

"I will explain as we go, but we must hurry!" Radagast urged her.

"Are you leaving us?" Tilda asked sadly from behind Mirilas.

"Oh, dear. I'm afraid I must go," Mirilas said sadly, turning to embrace the young girl.

Tilda sniffed as she pressed her cheek into the elleth's shoulder. "W-will we see you again?" she asked as she began to cry.

"I do not know, but I very much hope so," Mirilas said gently, breaking away to dry the girl's tears. She then looked up to Sigrid, who stood behind her sister. "Sigrid, I need you to do something for me. Make a pack for each of you with food, extra clothes, a blanket. Watch the skies for Smaug. If he comes, and he will, you take these packs, and you get out of Lake Town as fast as you can. Make for Dale. You can find shelter there."

Sigrid nodded in understanding, looking rather sad. She had only taught the girls a little. She hoped it would be enough.

"And you?" Sigrid asked, looking worried.

"I will do what I must," Mirilas said, drawing herself back up to her full height.

Sigrid looked as though she might cry before calling on some inner strength and stopping herself, instead going to comfort Tilda.

"Good luck, and be safe," Mirilas said to them all before turning to Radagast. "Lead on."

* * *

High above the lake, Smaug flew, searching for the source of power: the Dragon Jewel. He had felt its power! It had to be here!

Smaug huffed in frustration, sending jets of flame out at Lake Town. In seconds, half the town was ablaze. Smaug chuckled at the destruction and swooped lower to set the other half ablaze but stopped when he felt something hit his scales and skid off to the side. Were those arrows? Had these miserable lake men dared to fire on him?

Well, he was destroying their homes. He chuckled at the thought. How fragile were these puny humans' lives! In seconds, their whole existence was destroyed!

Smaug flew back up high into the skies to survey his work. The whole town was burning. It would not be long before there was little but wreckage left of the town. Satisfied at his work, Smaug flew circles high above the town to watch it burn down, feeling his frustration ebb even as the flames rose.

The Dragon Jewels powers were growing. Soon, it would not be able to hide. And he would find it. And take it.


	27. Chapter 27: Fleeing Fire

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"What is that wyrm doing?" Dwalin hissed out in confusion. Smaug had been circling high above Lake Town without harming it for some time now, almost as though he was looking for something. Or someone.

"He's looking for something," Balin said, sounding resigned yet curious. Whatever the wyrm was waiting for or looking for could not be good for them. If anything, he would make their job harder, making him harder to kill.

"What could he be looking for? It is a poor town," Dori asked in confusion. The whole time they had been in Lake Town, they had seen nothing that the dragon could value so much to delay the destruction that was sure to come.

"The Master had gold," Bombur reminded them. "Perhaps he wants it."

"Then why does he not attack? Take the gold?" Nori asked, scratching his beard in speculation.

"And how would he bring the gold back to Erebor, huh?" Balin reminded them. The dragon only had his talons to transport treasure. He could not do much more than grab a chest. There would be no point in moving that little treasure from Lake Town to the Mountain, particularly not when compared to the vast treasure hoard of Erebor.

Thorin stayed silent, glaring off at the wyrm in hatred and wishing that he could strike Smaug down where he flew. Then, the Mountain and all its treasure would be his. As he watched, Smaug dove toward the Town and set half the town ablaze with a single jet of flames. Now, it was too late.

"Probably taunted them, the sadistic bastard," Dwalin growled as he and the others watched the dragon set the other half of the town on fire before returning to a greater height to circle again.

"What's happening?" Bilbo called, running up to them. It had taken him some time to run from the treasure room to the overlook beyond the gate where the dwarves had met once Smaug had left the Mountain. Almost immediately, the hobbit spotted the flames in the distance, trailing high up into the sky as the blaze grew. It was consuming the town remarkably quickly. "That's Lake Town! Did he...We have to help them!"

"What can we do, Bilbo? It is a day's journey from here. By the time we arrived, we could do nothing," Balin reasoned heavily. He, too, wished that they could help the people of Lake Town, but the Mountain lay a day's journey from the lake. They would not arrive in time.

"We can't just sit here!" Bilbo protested. He could not comprehend how the dwarves seemed so calm at the sight of such destruction, such death.

"Why not? We have the Mountain," Dwalin said gruffly. Despite what he showed, he felt for the people, for the loss of their homes, but what could they do against a dragon? Dwalin was starting to realize just how foolhardy their quest had been from the onset. They had thought to regain their homeland, but they had no plan to kill the dragon. He supposed they could set up in Dale for the dwarvish windlance, but they would need black arrows. They could make them, but not with a dragon in the Mountain with them. What were they to do?

"And when Smaug returns? What then?" Bilbo questioned, unknowingly echoing Dwalin's thoughts.

At this, all of the dwarves went silent. They would all die if they stayed here. Smaug would smell them. He would find them, and he would kill them all.

"We cannot leave," Thorin said finally. "The Arkenstone-"

"This?" Bilbo asked, pulling the stone from inside his coat. Once Smaug had left the treasure hoard, it had been easy enough to retrieve the stone before running off to find the dwarves.

All the dwarves stared at the stone in wonder before Thorin snatched it from the hobbit's hand and began spouting orders, "All of you, gather your gear. We leave now. We make for the Iron Hills."

"What? But the people of Lake Town!" Bilbo protested as the dwarves started walking around him back to the stairs that led to the plain far below.

"They are not our concern, Master Baggins. Are you with us or not?" Thorin growled.

"You don't need to fight for us now. You've fulfilled your contract, Bilbo," Balin said kindly, hoping to save the hobbit's life. A hobbit had no business trying to kill a dragon, particularly one so ancient and well-armoured as Smaug.

Bilbo would have protested. He wanted to fight with the dwarves to the very end of this business, but he could not leave the people of Lake Town to this fate. Not when he could help them. The dwarves would return with an army and a plan, and he would be waiting.

* * *

Bard hurried through the many people of Lake Town on the shore with his son in tow, looking desperately for his daughters. They should still be with Mirilas, and she was much easier to spot among these people than they. Yet, he had seen no sign of silver hair. Where was she? Where were they?

"Da!" a high-pitched call came. That was Tilda!

Bard turned to see both his daughters running toward him with open arms. They were alive! He rushed over to hug them close. They were all alive!

"You! With the children! Where is my sister?" a voice called from behind Bard.

Bard quickly turned to see an elf with hair very much like Mirilas's striding toward him. So this was her brother. "You are Legolas?" he asked.

The elf looked surprised but nodded.

"She told me about you," Bard said quickly in explanation.

Legolas nodded and asked, this time more calmly, "Where is she?"

"I was hoping you would know," Bard admitted.

"She left!" Sigrid said suddenly, interrupting them.

"Did you see her?" Legolas asked seriously, turning to the older girl.

"Yes. A strange man came and took her. She called him Radagast," Sigrid said quickly, not so intimidated by the elf's beauty as she would have been had she not met Mirilas.

"Radagast?" Legolas repeated. Obviously, he knew no more than they about why Mirilas would leave with the little man, though it sounded like he at least knew who this Radagast was.


	28. Chapter 28: Where Shall We Go?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"You saw something out there," Tauriel said to Legolas, hurrying to follow him.

"The orc I pursued out of Lake Town. I know who he is: Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler. A warg pack was waiting for him on the outskirts of Esgaroth. They fled into the North. These orcs were different from the others. They bore a mark I have not seen for a long time. The mark of Gundabad," Legolas explained.

"Gundabad?" Tauriel asked in surprise and concern.

"An orc stronghold in the far north of the Misty Mountains," Legolas explained quickly, unwilling to explain the full history of their realm with that place of evil and death.

"Hir nin Legolas," (My lord Legolas) a familiar voice called from behind them. The two elves turned to see Ladinion, a messenger for the guard, riding toward them. "Togon peth o Adar lin," (I bring word from your Father) Ladinion said. "Caranich idhan anin na le." (You are to return to him immediately.)

Legolas looked down in resignation. "Tolo, Tauriel," (Come, Tauriel) he instructed, walking toward Ladinion.

"Hir nin, edlennant Tauriel," (My lord, Tauriel is banished) Ladinion said, refusing to sound more than apologetic.

"Edlennant?" (Banished?) Legolas questioned. Then, he knew what to do. "You may tell my father: if there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me." He set his mouth in a firm line, resigned to his decision.

Tauriel approached the elf prince with eyes downcast to plead with him in a whisper, "It is your King's command." She refused to be responsible for his estrangement with his father.

"Nau, aran nin, mawlo gur nin asnin," (He is my king, but he does not command my heart) he explained to her, not caring that Ladinion had easily overheard. Legolas turned back to Ladinion and said, knowing his father had a right to know, "Nethig nin egant ah Radagast uabamarth ned Esgaroth." (My sister went with Radagast, before the destruction of Lake Town)

Ladinion nodded in thanks. At least, he could bring this news to his King. The princess was safe if she was with Radagast. Perhaps, the army would not be necessary.

As Ladinion rode away, back to the approaching army of elves, Legolas said to Tauriel, "I ride North. Will you join me?"

"To where?" Tauriel asked, matching his steps.

"To Gundabad," Legolas said shortly.

* * *

Bard was among the first people to arrive at the ruins of Dale. Just through the gates in the plaza beyond, he could see a couple, small baskets filled with tubers. Beside these was another basket half full of various berries. Someone was here, and they had foraged for food.

A little farther from them, there was a pile of ancient-looking blankets and coats. Most were threadbare, though a couple looked to be of very good quality. Not just a scavenger, then. Whoever was here had known they were coming and was making what little preparations they could.

As Bard walked into the plaza, a small figure approached from the other side of the plaza. Under the person's arm was a plank of wood. "Hello!" the hobbit called, waving his free hand to get Bard's attention.

"Bilbo," Bard called, striding over to the hobbit as he placed the wood atop a stack. "What is all this?" he asked, hoping this meant that the dwarves would honour their promise and help them.

"I saw that your town was destroyed. I'm sorry for that. I thought you'd come here, looking for shelter. So, I made some preparations," Bilbo said. "It isn't much, but it's better than nothing."

"It certainly is," Bard said, "Thank you." The man had noticed that the hobbit made no mention of the dwarves.

"Ah, one more thing," the hobbit said, racing after the man at a jog to keep up with his much longer stride. "Where is Mirilas? The elf?" He had not seen her amongst the people of Lake Town. It would be more than a shame if she were to die because the dwarves had taken her from home. And, he would never repay the debt he owed to her.

Bard frowned and studied the hobbit for a moment. He understood why the other elf, her brother, had asked after her. He would assume that the very reason he was so far from the Woodland Realm was to search for his sister, though it could also be to finish off that orc pack. But, why would the hobbit want to know? Was he going to tell the dwarves where she was so they could take her back to negotiate with her father?

And where were the dwarves? He both hoped and dreaded that they were in the Mountain, where they could have been killed by Smaug. Or, they could be why the dragon had attacked his home.

"Bard? Bard!" he heard, snapping out of his thoughts. Bard looked down at the hobbit and slowed to a stop upon realizing that the hobbit was huffing out quick breaths from keeping up with him.

The hobbit was here, not with the dwarves, and he was helping him, helping them all. He deserved this much, at least, in thanks. "She left, before the dragon came," Bard offered the hobbit.

"Thank goodness!" Bilbo exclaimed in relief. "I was afraid she had...Wait, she left? Where did she go? Back to her father?"

"A man called Radagast came and got her," Bard said, still not sure who that man was. Her brother had seemed relieved that she was with this man, so she was hopefully safe.

"Radagast? What is he doing out here?" Bilbo asked in surprise.

"You know who he is?" Bard questioned quickly.

"Yes. He's a wizard. He lives in Mirkwood," Bilbo explained. "Wait, you let her leave with him without knowing who he was?"

"She knew him, trusted him. That was enough for me," Bard said simply.

Bilbo nodded. "Yes, she is certainly a judge of character...Not to worry. Radagast will probably have her back in the Woodland Realm before the dwarves return."

"Return?" Bard questioned.

Only then did Bilbo realize that he had just revealed part of Thorin's plan. Bilbo sighed in disappointment with himself but said, supposing that he along with the people of Lake Town would find out soon enough, "They went to the Iron Hills, to their kin. They mean to come back with an army to kill Smaug."

Bard sighed and placed a hand on his forehead in an attempt to stop the headache from coming. His home, the homes of his people and his children were gone. They had no money to rebuild their lives, the dragon was not dead, and the dwarves meant to come with an army. These were certainly eventful times, and he was not sure he was glad to live in them.

"Thank you, for telling me," Bard said to the hobbit.

"You deserve to know," Bilbo said simply before walking off to continue finding food and supplies.


	29. Chapter 29: The Shade of Sauron

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Are you ready, my girl?" Radagast asked with a wrinkled brow. Dol Guldur rose high and desolate on the horizon, growing closer at an unsettling speed. They were close, and they had to be ready when they arrived.

"I will have to be, Radagast," Mirilas said as the sled slid to a stop across the bridge from the old fortress. And the source of so much evil. She would enter first. She had the power that the Ring Bearers would need to defeat the shade.

She ran across the bridge as a light split the sky, spreading out in a wave of white that emanated from the fortress to the horizon. Apparently, the Lady Galadriel was already there. With luck, the Lady of Light had saved Gandalf's life. Neither she nor Radagast were sure of any of them reaching him in time.

A dark voice rumbled as if from everywhere in a language strange to them all. It was Black Speech, but they all recognized what he said. " _ **Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky. Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone."**_

"He is here," Mirilas whispered in recognition. Never had she thought that she would have to face this dark evil.

The elf reached Galadriel soon enough. The Lady was surrounded. Every single one of the Nazgul was here, and Gandalf looked nearly dead in the elf lady's arms.

Mirilas ran forward with a hand extended, sending a wall of force out toward the nearest Nazgul, sending it tumbling off the cliff.

" _ **You cannot fight the shadow**_ ," the same dark voice ground out as Mirilas fought off two more. She began to feel her limbs weaken as the voice said, " _ **Even now you fade**_."

"No!" Mirilas yelled as she set loose a wave of silvery power. She would do her very best to not allow this evil to endure. This time, she only pushed the Nazgul back. They advanced again.

" _ **A light alone in the**_ _ **darkness**_ ," the voice mocked. He knew, somehow, that she could not defeat him alone. She was an aid to the one that would banish this evil, or at least she hoped they could manage to do so.

Galadriel looked up and met the younger elf's gaze. "I am not alone," she said with a knowing look. Only then did her companions reveal themselves.

First, Elrond stepped out onto the platform, drawing his Noldorin sword as he did. Mirilas recognized the armour from drawings and paintings in her father's library. This was the armour of the Noldor in the Last Alliance. Saruman followed with his white robes billowing out behind him, holding his staff in a tight grip as he asked, "Are you in need of assistance, my Lady?" Mirilas knew that it was to Galadriel that he spoke. She was the one who would banish the shade. Mirilas was only a power source.

The Nazgul began to attack again, but with the help of the new arrivals, Mirilas drove them away. It took time, and the evil shades reappeared many times, but eventually, the guardians of the light were all that remained. None of them were under any illusions that the Nazgul were gone for good.

In this new stillness, Radagast rode in on his sleigh. "Gandalf!" he called, "Climb on!"

"No. Wait," Gandalf commanded weakly. When he left, one more must come. She was the key. He could not leave her.

"Go! He is weak! He cannot remain here! It is draining his life!" Galadriel, lifting Gandalf onto the sleigh.

"No! Wait!" Gandalf protested as the sleigh sped off.

Mirilas carefully walked toward Galadriel where she lay on the platform. "Galadriel?" she asked, placing a hand gently on the other elf's shoulder. Elrond moved to stand over the two protectively as Mirilas knelt beside Galadriel, taking her hand. " _You must be ready,"_ Mirilas heard suddenly in her mind. She looked at the other elf lady in confusion only for her to nod slightly.

Before they could exchange anything more, one of the broken staircases exploded in fire. " _ **It has begun**_ ," the voice snarled out as the fire took shape into an eye, the eye of Sauron. An armoured shape with a dark crown drew closer in the centre of the eye as the voice continued, " _ **The East will fall. So shall the Kingdom of Angmar rise."**_ Nine familiar shapes appeared before the larger figure: the Nine, the Nazgul. " _ **The time of the Elves is over. The age of the orc has come."**_

Galadriel drew to her feet in front of the other three, emitting an eerie, blue light. Here she was: the bearer of Nenya. And she was sapping all of Mirilas's power from her through her hand still clasped tightly by the Ring Bearer.

Galadriel held out a hand, letting some of this power loose, banishing the Nazgul, but not the large shade. It would take all of their power to banish Sauron.

"You have no power here, Servant of Morgoth," Galadriel said, pouring all of her and Mirilas's power into driving away the shade of Sauron. The eye of fire quickly disappeared, leaving only the dark shade of Sauron.

Never before had the young sorceress felt such a tremendous release of power. Galadriel was sapping all but the little spark she needed to keep from fading. She was not sure if it would be enough.

"You are nameless! Faceless! Formless!" Galadriel continued, pressing still harder with their combined power. "Go back to the Void from whence you came!" she said, pushing the last of their power at the shade.

There was a brilliant flash of light, and then darkness, stillness. It was done.

Galadriel stumbled back, releasing Mirilas's hand. Elrond caught the Lady of Light and lowered her gently to the ground. Mirilas rocked on her feet before fainting dead away.

* * *

There it was again! That power! But this time, no matter the distance, there was so much more of it! It had to be the Dragon Jewel! No other magic felt like this!

Smaug nearly shivered at the intoxicating feel of the power that seemed to wash over him like a wave of warmth. He had to have! He would find the source, and keep it. Forever.


	30. Chapter 30: Preparations

Chapter Thirty

"Da?" Bain asked once he had spotted his father.

"What is it, Bain?" Bard asked as he continued walking purposefully. There was too much to do for him to stop.

"You need to rest, Da," Bain insisted.

"I will rest when our people are safe," Bard resisted.

"At least eat something," Bain pleaded, grabbing his father's hand to stop him and hold out a handful of berries he had found in the forest. He had already given the rest of the berries that he had found to his sisters.

Bard sighed and took the berries from his son. He had not eaten in over a day. If this continued, he could starve. All of them could starve at the rate they were finding food.

"Do you think the dragon will come back, Da?" Bain asked his father as he looked to the Mountain apprehensively. Smaug had returned to the Mountain at some point in the night and had not shown himself since. Perhaps the dragon did not care that the survivors of his attack had taken shelter on his doorstep? Or was he taunting them again?

"I do," Bard said heavily. This was a welcome break from organising the people to go foraging in the woods around Dale and allocating what few supplies they had to their women, children, and elderly first. But, he knew he needed a plan for Smaug showing himself again.

"What will we do when it comes?" the son asked with a frown of worry and lack of direction.

Bard sighed and looked toward the sky with a hand on his forehead. This was the one eventuality for which he had no plan. The survival of the people was moving a pace. Food was an issue, but there was hope. They had blankets and shelter, but how could they defend themselves against a second dragon attack?

As Bard thought, a tower caught his eyes. High atop a watchtower in Dale was a weapon, the same type of weapon that had stood in Lake Town. A dwarvish windlance.

"Bain, I need your help," Bard said. "Go search the city. Find as many black arrows as you can. There must be some left from Girion's last stand. He missed a few times, and even the one that hit Smaug should be around here somewhere. Bring any that you find to that tower." Bard pointed to the tower before them, where the dwarvish windlance still stood tall and proud. This was their chance, their only chance to survive another attack.

Bain's eyes lit with hope. He nodded eagerly to his father and sped off in search of black arrows to defend the people of Lake Town's new home. With any luck, these arrows could save them all.

* * *

Mirilas slowly opened her eyes. Daylight stung her eyes, forcing her to hold up a hand to shield them. As she tried again to open her eyes, Mirilas heard arguing, the arguing of two familiar voices.

"Mithrandir? Radagast?" she asked, unsure if she was hearing correctly. Radagast had taken Gandalf from Dol Guldur. How was she with them?

"My dear Mirilas! You're awake!" Gandalf said warmly. She could hear the weariness in his voice, not that she was surprised by this.

"How..." she started until she realized that they were moving. She stopped and finally looked around herself. Gandalf laid beside her on Radagast's sled with Radagast mounted behind them, steering the rabbits along at a high speed through the trees. "How am I here, not-"

"In Dol Guldur?" Gandalf finished for her, sensing Mirilas's discomfort. She nodded with confused eyes.

"That would be Saruman," Radagast offered, eyes never leaving the trees as they whipped by.

"Saruman?" Mirilas asked in surprise.

"Honestly, my Lady, he did not want to deal with you. He contacted Radagast to hand you off," Gandalf explained apologetically. He did not, could not condone Saruman's dismissal of all users of magic other than the Istari and Galadriel.

Mirilas raised her eyebrows that one of the Istari could be so callous. After knowing Radagast and Gandalf, she had thought that the other Istari would be much like them: helpful and caring. Apparently not.

"Where are we going?" the elf asked, attempting to push Saruman's unsympathetic behaviour from her mind.

"Dale-" Radagast said firmly.

"The Woodland Realm-" Gandalf insisted at the same time.

The two spoke at the same time before launching into an argument, likely the same argument she had woken to. "We cannot leave her there, Gandalf! Thranduil has sent an army after her! An army, Gandalf!" Radagast was insistent.

Gandalf frowned at this information. "Why?" he asked before realizing that this meant Mirilas had not been in the Woodland Realm when Radagast had gone to her. What had happened while he was gone?

"Your Company of dwarves kidnapped her, Gandalf!" Radagast said accusingly.

"What?! Why would they do such a foolish thing?" Gandalf exclaimed. It seemed, he could not leave the dwarves to their own devices lest they get themselves in still more trouble.

"It's true," Mirilas said, annoyed at remembering what had happened.

"I knew that the Lady Galadriel had sent you back to your father, but this..." Gandalf said, processing this new information. "Did they reach the Mountain?" he asked finally.

Mirilas shot Gandalf a look of exasperation but answered, "I am not sure, but Smaug is awake."

"He will have sensed you, my dear, like I told you," Radagast warned.

"That's just great," Mirilas said sarcastically. "The dragon's awake, likely angry at his home being threatened, and he can sense me." She shook her head and asked weakly, "What do I do?"

"We need to get to Dale," Gandalf said, deciding on a course of action.

Mirilas nodded in agreement. "If my father has sent an army, that is where he will go. It's defensible and close by to the Mountain."

"Can you take us there, Radagast?" Gandalf asked, looking up at his fellow wizard.

"No, Gandalf. I have been gone too long already, but I can get you a horse."


	31. Chapter 31: Armies Descend on Dale

Chapter Thirty-One

"Good morning, Alfrid. What news from the night watch?" Bard asked, striding up the stairs to the plaza.

"All quiet, sire. Not much to report," Alfrid responded tiredly and disinterestedly, slowly rising from his spot on the stone floor where he had been tucked into his coat. "Nothing gets past me," he added as he followed Bard to the plaza.

"Except an army of elves, it would seem," Bard said, pausing at the steps to the plaza to stare at rank upon rank of golden-armoured elves presumably from the Woodland Realm.

As if to acknowledge him, all of the elves shifted from an at ease stance to a ready stance as one. They were alarmingly well-trained, it would seem. Bard strode down the stairs to the elves, who turned to form an aisle between the ranks in unison, causing the man to pause in astonishment at still more evidence of their precision training. Bard carefully strode between the ranks, the aisle closing behind them as two by two the soldiers resumed their stances.

From afar, the sound of hoofbeats could be heard approaching the plaza. Soon after, King Thranduil himself rode in on a giant elk with large, proud antlers. Following him was his armoured retinue on beautiful, strong horses, nothing like the few horses he had seen near Lake Town. Of course, the horses of the elves were fairer than the horses of men, just like everything else about them.

Bard called out to the Elven King as the elven soldiers turned to face their commander, "My Lord Thranduil, we did not look to see you here."

"I heard you needed aid," Thranduil said, turning his elk to look back in the direction from which he had come. Horse-drawn carts came into the plaza, rolling to a stop. Loaded into the carts were all manner of vegetables and bottled supplies. The people of Lake Town chattered excitedly as they crowded around the carts to help unload the food and set to feeding their people. This fare would last much longer than what meagre sources of food they had managed to find. This could help to feed them until they began to fish the lake again.

"You have saved us," Bard said in utter relief and gratefulness, "I do not know how to thank you."

"Your gratitude is misplaced," Thranduil answered. "I did not come on your behalf." Thranduil's eyes shone fiercely as he said with strength and power, "I came to reclaim something of mine. Where is my daughter?" And there it was. Bard was under no illusions that the elves had come solely to help the people of Lake Town in their hour of need, not when their princess was gone.

"And old wizard called Radagast came to Lake Town and took her," Bard explained, knowing from the seriousness of his gaze that it was not wise to withhold information about Mirilas from her father.

Thranduil's face changed to look pensive as he wondered at the important matter that could have had Radagast going to such a fledgling sorceress as Mirilas. Despite her years of training, Mirilas was not yet magically mature. She could not recover from power drains as the Lady Galadriel could. Concern followed this curiosity for if Radagast required Mirilas' help, the matter must be grave indeed. Such a grave matter could run the risk of exposing her to Smaug, something he had striven for too many years to keep from happening.

* * *

Alfrid tiredly looked out the watch tower to the plain in front of the Lonely Mountain. Being on watch would seem to be the most boring job he could have gotten, but he was glad that he only had to sit and look.

It could have been better, though. The tower was cold and windswept, unlike the Master's warm house. There was little food to be had anywhere around Dale, let alone for him. He missed being well-fed, as he had been when he worked for the Master. A nice, warm meal would go along way to keeping him warm on this miserable duty.

The man sighed and leaned his face on his hand, feeling his eyes beginning to droop closed. No one would mind if he took a quick nap, right? It's not like there was anything out there. What were the chances of another army coming?

Just when Alfrid was about to sleep, a cry came from below. He could not understand what was said, so it was probably just the elves doing something or other better than men, just like everything else they did.

Alfrid took a last peek at the plain, thinking to let the boring grassland lull him to sleep. His eyes shot open as he saw an army approaching, led by some sort of rider on a short beast that looked rather like a pig from this distance. What in the world was going on?

Alfrid ambled down the stairs of the tower in search of Bard. He would show that bargeman! He had _seen_ this army approach!

"Sire!" he called, speeding and huffing to seem as though he had run from his post.

"What is it, Alfrid?" Bard asked as he continued to pass out blankets.

"There's another army approaching from the East!" he said, stopping before the _de facto_ leader of the refugees of Lake Town. Why would he not just agree to be King? He could have so much power! And Alfrid would have power again.

Bard wordlessly handed off a pile of blankets to Alfrid and raced up to the tower. The army was closer now, nearing the camp of the elves. This army was loud, and the soldiers were short. These must be the dwarves that Bilbo had said were coming.

Bard could see that near the front of the army, a group of a little under a score of dwarves walked out of step from the army. This must be the dwarves of Erebor, returning with their kin to kill Smaug and reclaim the Mountain. He doubted they knew that an army of elves was near, and he feared what would happen when they knew.


	32. Chapter 32: Negotiations

Chapter Thirty-Two

"My King, the dwarves have agreed to negotiations," Ladinion, one of Thranduil's messengers, said after bowing. Thranduil nodded and waved Ladinion away.

"Negotiations? While the dragon is still in the mountain?" Bard questioned in surprise.

"Yes. The dwarves are not going near that Mountain until we have terms," Thranduil said, motioning for him to follow.

The Elven King led Bard to a tent that had been set with a table and chairs. Apparently, the elves had prepared for these negotiations as soon as they had sent their messenger. There were two dwarves seated in chairs on one side of the table. One was Thorin, sitting grimly and self-importantly with a clenched fist resting on the table. Neither Thranduil nor Bard recognized the other dwarf, though Thranduil knew that it must be Thorin's cousin. Bard could only surmise that he and Thorin were related and hope he remembered the names from the old tapestry. He knew Thorin was son of Thrain, but who was the other dwarf? Who was the Lord of the Iron Hills?

"Thorin, Dain," Thranduil acknowledged as he sank into a seat on the other side of the table and draped one leg elegantly over the other. His presence was very artful and secure when compared to the dwarves that even now seemed angry and stubborn. Bard was not sure if he was glad that he was negotiating with the dwarves on the side of the elves or not.

"Thranduil, Bard," Thorin rumbled back in obvious displeasure.

"Hail, Thorin, Son of Thrain," Bard said respectfully, "And Dain, Son of Nain." He would not start these negotiations by insulting the dwarves.

"Let us begin," Thranduil said evenly.

"We know why you are here, Elf," Dain began accusingly.

"Do you?" Thranduil questioned. He was curious to see if Thorin had told Dain the truth or some delusion brought on by his greed.

"You want the gold," Dain said as though it was obvious.

"I have no interest in your gold," Thranduil responded.

"Liar! You would steal it from us! You would steal _my_ birthright!" Thorin yelled with eyes that shone with a glimmer of madness.

"I only want what is mine," the Elf King responded, his voice rising only slightly. "I want the White Gems of Lasgalen."

Bard frowned at this revelation. "You would go to war over a handful of gems?" he asked the Elf King in disbelief.

"The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken," Thranduil said seriously, turning to regard the man with a cool gaze.

"We are allies in this," Bard reminded him quietly.

"Yes, allies. Allies against our claim to our homeland," Dain returned.

"Are you not going to negotiate for your daughter?" Thorin asked with a sickening smile that seemed out of place on this dwarf.

"I have no need. She is with Radagast the Wizard," Thranduil said coolly. So, this was their ploy. Act as though they still had Mirilas in their grasp! Such manipulations would not work on him.

Thorin's smile faded, replaced with a look of fury that he levelled upon the man next to Thranduil. "What did you do, _Bargeman_?" Thorin hissed.

"I told him the truth, Master Dwarf," Bard responded. Was this the real Thorin? In Lake Town he had not seemed so unbalanced, so...greedy.

"And why are you here, Human? What do you want?" Dain asked, trying to deflect attention from Thorin's attempted deception.

"We are not here to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. On behalf of the people of Lake Town, I ask that you honour your pledge: a share of the treasure so that they might rebuild their lives," Bard answered, hoping that they would grant this and prevent war.

Thorin regarded the man silently. It was clear by his expression that he did not intend to honour his word.

"What of your conscience? Does it not tell you that our cause is just?" Bard asked. "My people offered you help, and in return you brought on them ruin and death."

"When did the people of Lake Town come to our aid but for the promise of rich reward?" Thorin shot back.

"When did the dwarves of Erebor come to ask for the aid of the people of Lake Town but in retaking their homeland?" Bard returned.

Thorin grew silent at this, brooding over the loss of the argument but clearly no closer to granting their requests.

Day one of negotiations did not seem to be going very well.

* * *

Helluin and Ascar saw the gate of the Woodland Realm with absolute relief. Their journey from Lorien had been long, but they were finally home. The twins were the only family each of them had, but they had left many friends in the Woodland Realm when they accompanied their princess to Lorien. Among those they were anxious to see were Celon and Nenar, the guards of Thranduil that had trained the twins. Feren was also on the list, even though they had seen the servant relatively recently. He would know where the princess was so that the twins could resume their duty and protect her.

Both of the twins were glad to protect the princess. She had never been much trouble, save for once when both they and she had been young. They had been in training and so had only heard rumours of what had happened, but what they had heard made it clear that the princess needed guards. They only hoped that she was in the Woodland Realm where she belonged.

Ascar stepped forward to the guards of the gate, who immediately recognized them. "Ascar! Helluin!" the guard called, "Men narant tirith an le. Daer nad nant." (We were told to expect your arrival. Much has happened of late.)

"Man? Naro im," (What? Tell me,) Ascar said quickly as he and his twin hurried to the guards.

"I Rin athradant ananfangrim. I Aran rhimant theliel hene," (The princess was taken by dwarves. The King marches on the Mountain to retrieve her) one of them explained.

The twins looked to each other before saying as one, "An Erebor." (To Erebor)


	33. Chapter 33: Relief

Chapter Thirty-Three

Gandalf determinedly walked across the plaza full of humans and elven soldiers, leaning rather heavily on his staff so that he could support Mirilas's weight. She had never been particularly strong physically, and recovering her power had made her weaker still. The young elleth had not reached her magical maturity, so using so much of her power at a time tired her greatly. They were both fortunate that Radagast had brought them as far as the edge of the forest to give them both the opportunity to sleep and recover their strength on the sleigh. Even now, only one of them had fully recovered his power.

Now, they had finally reached Dale. They were both exhausted, but judging by the elven and dwarvish armies camped around and in the ruined city, the situation here was tense enough to prevent at least Gandalf from resting until the situation was resolved. Mirilas would be more lucky, particularly if her father had anything to say in that matter.

"My father will be here," Mirilas whispered to Gandalf in warning. If the army was here, the King was sure to be present.

"Indeed he will, and Thorin and Dain, too, likely," Gandalf said, looking for a leader amongst the rabble, someone who could lead them to Thranduil.

"No, no. No! Oi! You! Pointy 'at!" they heard from the other side of the plaza. Gandalf turned to look at a short, pasty-faced man dressed all in black hurrying toward them with a nasty look on his face.

"Alfrid," Mirilas said in annoyance, though the man did not hear her. However, Gandalf had heard, and he knew from her tone that he would not enjoy dealing with this man. It confirmed his suspicions that this man was unpleasant under any circumstances.

"Yes, you," he said in an insulting tone, pointing at Gandalf. "We don't want no tramps, beggars, nor vagabonds 'round 'ere," he continued, walking toward them with a hunch. "We got enough troub'a withou' the likes a you. An' wha' are you doin' with someone like 'er? Off you go. On yer 'orse. Leave the gi'l and back where you came from!"

"Do you not recognize me, Alfrid?" Mirilas asked, stepping forward so that Gandalf's taller form no longer hid her from the man.

"So yer back, are ya? Feeling more powerful with yer people all around ye?" Alfrid ground out in obvious distain.

Gandalf turned to face the man fully and ask in anger, "Who's in charge here?"

A familiar voice answered, "Who is asking?"

"Bard?" Mirilas asked, looking over at the familiar man in relief.

"Mirilas?" Bard asked, checking first to see if it really was her and then to see if she was injured. When he noticed that her dress was even worse condition than before, he quickly shrugged out of his coat and placed it around her shoulders. He still did not know that elves had a much greater tolerance for both heat and cold than men.

Mirilas nodded and asked, "Where is my father, Bard?"

Bard nodded to her and glanced at Gandalf before turning and saying, "This way." Gandalf could not help but notice that Bard must know who she was and had helped her, unlike this Alfrid. Bard seemed honourable enough.

It did not take long for them to reach a rather large tent of white fabric. Inside, Thranduil lounged on a wooden chair that was rather grand for a battlefield. It looked old, as though it might have been found here in Dale. Thranduil did not look up at the sound of footsteps, choosing instead to stare at the ground in worry and regret.  
"Ada..." Mirilas said, sounding as if she could sob in relief.

Thranduil nearly leapt to his feet when he saw who was with Bard. He strode over to his daughter and hugged her close, pressing his face into her hair. "Alpen hebathon le o enni, sell nin," (No one will take you from me again, my daughter) he whispered fiercely.

Mirilas started to cry into his chest in relief. "Na si. Mela le, Ada" (I am here again. I love you, Father) she responded tearfully. Thranduil pulled away just enough to plant a kiss on her forehead. Only then did he notice the state of her dress, frowning as he did.

The Elf King quickly pulled Bard's coat from around his daughter's shoulders and threw it toward Bard carelessly, who caught with a disgruntled look but said nothing, choosing instead to shrug his coat back on. Thranduil quickly shed his own voluminous robe and wrapped his daughter in it. Mirilas sighed through her tears as her Ada's warmth enveloped her. He smelled like trees and wine, like peppermint and like musk. He smelled like home.

"Nenar!" Thranduil called as he led his daughter to sit in the chair that was still warm from him. He settled her in the chair with gentle, loving hands.

"Aran nin?" (My King?) the guard asked, entering the tent with a hand on the hilt of his sword in case of any threats to his king. "Hiril nin!" (My Lady) he exclaimed warmly as he realised that the silver-hair and robed elf he had seen was not his King but the princess.

"Fetch a healer, and Feren. Then, see to it that Dale is fortified against the dragon," the Elf King instructed.

"Yes, my Lord," Nenar said, bowing to both royals before hurrying out. From the look in the guard's eyes, Thranduil was sure that word would spread through the ranks of his army that the princess had returned.

"The healer is not necessary, Ada. I just need to sleep," Mirilas objected.

"I will not risk your health, sell nin," (my daughter) Thranduil said firmly.

"You should, my Lady. You do not yet know the full effects of such power," Gandalf said sagely. Thranduil shot Gandalf a look that said the wizard would be explaining precisely what he had involved his daughter in. He would brook no refusals. None of them noticed Bard frowning in concern at the elf princess.


	34. Chapter 34: What of Peace?

Chapter Thirty-Four

Gandalf waited outside the tent along with Bard as a healer looked Mirilas over. She was deep in thought the entire time, and so she hardly noticed when the healer left, telling the Elf King that his daughter only needed to sleep and eat to regain her strength. The healer had arranged for a cot to be brought to the tent for her, seeming to know that Thranduil wanted to keep her close. Then, she was left alone with her father.

He was stroking her hair as he had when she was only an elfling. She had missed this feeling, had missed him. She had only briefly seen him when she returned from Lorien; it felt as though she had seen him even less than what little time she had had with her brother.

"When we return home, I want you to have your own great elk. Choose whichever you want from the herd," her father said in a voice laden with affection.

"Is that a promise?" Mirilas smiled at the thought. For years, her father had been adamant that she could not ride the great elk save with Legolas or himself. He was so afraid that she would be hurt, that something would permanently take her from him like the dragon so nearly had. Maybe now, he would allow her more freedom, rather than keeping her ever closer as she had feared would be the result of this whole debacle.

"Of course, mirig nin," (my little jewel) Thranduil assured her as he swooped her up into his arms. The Elf King carried her to the cot and gently laid her down so that she could nestle in his robe.

The elleth's mind turned to Gandalf's and her arrival in Dale. She would have had to be blind as well as deaf to not notice that the people of Lake Town currently resided in Dale. What else were Bard and Alfrid doing here? That could only mean one thing. "Did Smaug attack Lake Town?"

"Yes," her father said. He was relieved by her question because it meant she had not been in Lake Town when Smaug had attacked. He highly doubted that the dragon would have let her escape had she been there.

"I saw Bard, but...Do you know if his children survived?" Mirilas asked worriedly. If they had followed her instructions, they would have had a good chance of surviving, assuming they had had any warning of Smaug's attack before the fire engulfed the town.

"He does not speak of them, but I believe they are alive," Thranduil said.

"Thank the Valar," Mirilas sighed in relief, closing her eyes. She knew that she could not have stayed in Lake Town with the children, but she could not forgive herself if she had left and they had died.

Thranduil surveyed his daughter's reaction, surmising that at the very least she was fond of Bard's children. She seemed to know the man himself, if his coat draped over her had meant anything. He could not let her love him. He would not lose his daughter to a mortal man. He would not risk her fading in grief at his inevitable death.

"Hiril nin!" (My Lady!) a call came from outside the tent that was both anxious and joyful.

"Feren?" Mirilas called, a smile lighting her face.

"Hiril nin Mirilas! (My lady Mirilas!) Feren exclaimed in joy, rushing into the tent. As soon as he had spotted her with the king, he dropped into a hasty bow before dashing to her side.

"I elenath sila glan si, le aderthad, hiril nin!" (The stars shine brighter now that you have returned, my lady!) Feren gushed as he dropped to his knees at her side and clutched her hand to his heart. "Dihenuva le im an danna le?" (Can you ever forgive me for failing you?)

Mirilas gently set her other hand on her servant's shoulder and said warmly, "Nau, Feren." (Of course, Feren)

"Forgive me, King Thranduil, but the dwarves would speak with us," Bard interrupted, striding into the tent.

Thranduil looked up at the man in obvious displeasure. "Aderthuva, sell nin," (I will return, my daughter) he said, placing a hand on her cheek and stooping to kiss her forehead tenderly. "Feren, look after her," he instructed in the Common Tongue for Bard's benefit. She would not be alone. He would not allow it until she was safe back in his halls.

* * *

"Is there any way you could consider peace?" Bard asked.

"Yes," Thorin responded, "But only under certain conditions."

"I would expect no less," Thranduil said as he tilted his head.

"What are your conditions, Thorin?" Gandalf asked, ignoring the Elf King in the hope that this could work.

"We demand the return of the Princess Mirilas," Thorin said, surprising everyone, including Dain.

"Thorin, are ye sure ye want to be doin' tha'?" Dain questioned.

"She is a Princess of the Woodland Realm, Thorin. What claim have you to her?" Bard questioned. He had expected something unreasonable, but this was sheer lunacy.

"She is still a Prisoner of War!" Thorin insisted.

"I do not recall declaring war, Thorin," Thranduil responded coldly.

"We are here to avoid war, not start it!" Bard exclaimed. He was convinced that if the two kings were put in a room together, at least one of them would die. There seemed to be no way to reconcile them.

"And we will have war before I hand my daughter over to you, Thorin Oakenshield," the Elven King said with finality in his tone and his gaze.

Thorin met the Elf King's gaze with his own, equally determined eyes.

Bard interjected once again, hoping to stop this battle of wills before it escalated, "Perhaps we should meet again tomorrow, when tempers have cooled."

"A good idea, Bard," Gandalf said, stepping between the two kings.

"Very well," Thorin said gruffly once he could no longer see the Elf King.


	35. Chapter 35: Midnight Intruder

Chapter Thirty-Five

A dark figure slipped out the gate of Erebor into the night. He easily dodged the dwarven sentries posted around their army on the way to Dale. More caution was required in entering the ruins of the city. The elves were watching closely for any foul play from the dwarves. Both sides seemed more concerned with each other than the dragon that still dwelt in the Mountain and could easily attack them all at any time. How petty were these insignificant beings!

The dark figure slipped into the ruined city with ease to search for the grandest tent in the elves' camp. There was a large, white tent situated in a plaza. The figure paused and inhaled. He could almost taste the power emanating from the tent, those delicious tendrils so different from any other magic he had encountered. His target was inside.

There were elven guards outside the tent. He could not simply enter. But perhaps they were not watching all sides of the tent? They were too confident that they could sense any threat before it reached the tent and the precious prize within. The dark figure slipped into the ruined buildings to hide from the guards, quickly moving to the other side of the tent that was, luckily for him, unguarded. He smiled a dark, cruel smile with sharp, white teeth nearly protruding from his mouth like fangs. Foolish, arrogant elves.

The figure silently approached the tent and slipped under the fabric. There were only two people present. One was his target if the taste of her magic was anything to go by. The other was asleep, which made him insignificant. His target was in a deep sleep, likely recovering from the release of power he had sensed.

The figure moved closer to peer at his target curiously. She was an elf, and she was very beautiful, not that her appearance was anything but a convenient bonus. Her hair nearly shone even in the muted light of the moon, and his skin was pale. The figure smiled. She would be paler still after a few centuries in his lair.

The figure carefully slipped his arms under the sleeping elf's body and lifted her easily. He was lucky. The robe in which she was wrapped blocked light from reaching her, which kept her shine from betraying his presence to any who cared to look.

Unfortunately for this stranger, two guards had just arrived from the Woodland Realm and even now sought out their lady. Twin elves entered the tent, saw this stranger with their lady in his arms, and drew their swords, leaping forward to prevent his escape. "Stop!" one of them called, which woke the Elf King that had been dozing by her side. In seconds, three elves brandished their swords at the stranger that dared to attempt to take the elf lady.

The stranger quickly attempted to draw on the elf lady's magic to fight off these ellyn. There was less magic in her at present than he would have hoped and certainly not enough to get him out of this situation with her.

The stranger sapped her magic to shoot off a couple spells at the elves. The Elf King quickly blocked each of the spells with his own magic, conjuring a shield that blocked the spells from not only him but the twin guards. There would be no escape this way for the intruder.

Helluin and Ascar glanced at their King as he blocked spell after spell from this intruder. They started to edge around their King toward the intruder, ready to attack. Before they could, it became obvious that the princess's condition was worsening visibly as this stranger fought their King. Her skin was taking on an ashen grey tint, and her lips were turning blue. He was using her to fight!

The twins surrounded the intruder, making sure that he could not escape. The stranger noticed this and stopped attacking the Elf King, instead gathering all of his and her power around them in a last desperate attempt to keep her. Suddenly, there was a flash of red light from the intruder. When it faded, there was a thin chain connected the wrists of this intruder and the elf princess, but this was no ordinary chain. It glowed with the same red light, though the light quickly faded, leaving the chain to appear common.

The Elf King growled in anger and stepped forward, raising his sword to slice through the chain. As the edge of the sword connected with the chain, the chain flashed with the same red light, throwing the Elf King tumbling to the opposite side of the tent. It appeared there would be no separating them.

Just then, the elf lady stirred in the intruder's arms. Her eyes open to peer up into his face. When she did not recognize him, she nearly shouted at him, "Who are you? What are you doing?!"

The intruder chuckled at her response, surprised that she had not simply screamed.

"Answer the question!" Helluin yelled, brandishing his sword.

The intruder sat on the cot, situating the elf lady in his lap and in the cage of his arms. "I am Smaug," he said with a feral grin.

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose as he hissed in anger, "It's happening again!"

"So I'm not the first?" Smaug questioned knowingly. He was not surprised that another dragon had sensed her, but he was surprised that she was not still with this other dragon. "You should not be surprised. Every dragon wants to possess the Dragon Jewel."

"Oh, Valar!" Thranduil said, "It's true then? I had feared as much."

"You know what he is talking about?" Mirilas questioned as she struggled in the dragon's very human-like arms.

Her father nodded and said, "The Dragon Jewel, the one of great power that a dragon can harness this power."

"To what end?" Ascar questioned.

"To any end," Smaug returned with look promising only dark intent.

"Can you please at least let me go?" Mirilas asked as everyone else digested this information.

Smaug placed his mouth beside her ear and grazed the tip of her ear with his teeth before snarling to her, "Not a chance."


	36. Chapter 36: Bedding Down for the Night

Chapter Thirty-Six

"How is this possible? How are you here, looking like...well, like _that_?" Mirilas questioned, having given up trying to get out of the dragon's grip.

"This is my other form. It seemed easier to retrieve you in this form, when you are fortified against my other form," Smaug replied, turning his face from her father to the elleth he held close.

"What exactly are we supposed to do now?"Ascar asked. His sword, as well as his brother's, were still drawn. This situation could not continue as it was. The princess had to be freed from this beast, but none of them knew how, and until they knew, it seemed they would need to keep the dragon under careful watch. Who knew what else he could do.

"You will be under constant guard, Dragon. You cannot escape, and you _will not_ take her," the Elf King said fiercely.

"Fair enough," Smaug answered with assessing eyes. "Though, I will not release her from this chain."

Thranduil gritted his teeth in anger. His daughter noticed and jumped in, "Well, I need to sleep. You can finish arguing in the morning."

Sufficiently chastised, the Elf King sheathed his sword and stalked out of the tent in search of Gandalf. With any luck, he would know how to release Mirilas from the dragon's chain, and he could kill the beast.

Helluin sighed and sheathed his sword, though his twin did not seem to want to follow suit. Helluin caught his brother's eye and made a gesture with his head. Ascar nodded and sheathed his sword rather reluctantly.

"We will remain," Helluin announced, taking up a position on one edge of the tent.

"And protect," Ascar said much less calmly, moving to the opposite end of the tent.

Feren nodded in acceptance and said, "I shall get a cot."

"You have a choice before you, Little One," Smaug began as soon as Feren had left. "Be my obedient companion through the ages, using your power as I see fit, or I will take your power and leave you a husk."

Mirilas looked down, trying desperately to keep herself from crying. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before asking, "Is that your condition for releasing me from this chain?"

The dragon chuckled. "This chain...This chain slowly give me your power, so little you hardly notice." His amber eyes nearly glowed at the thought.

"Do you know what I did only days ago?" Mirilas asked suddenly.

Smaug had felt her power discharge some days ago but had yet to ask her about what had happened. Smaug inclined his head to her and raised an eyebrow.

Mirilas locked eyes with the humanoid dragon and said coldly, "I helped the bearers of the Elven Rings defeat Sauron's shade."

Smaug's lips spread into a sly smile as he said knowingly, "So it was you."

"You knew that he had been defeated? How?"

"The same way that I found you: I felt it."

"But you did not know it was me," Mirilas finished.

"No. I did not," Smaug assented.

"And?"

"And what?" the dragon asked.

"Are you angry? Sauron was banished. You are a dragon...Do you not care?" Mirilas asked.

"Not particularly," Smaug answered lightly.

"How? Why?" Mirilas asked in confusion.

"I may be a dragon, but I was quite content with my hoard. I do not wish to risk my life so that someone else may rule."

"Then you want to rule Middle Earth yourself?" Mirilas pressed.

Smaug chuckled and said, "Not all."

"Then how much?"

"That would be telling, my little jewel," Smaug said, leaning toward her again.

"Do not call me that," Mirilas said, sliding away from him and off his lap.

"What, my little jewel?" Smaug asked with a smug smile, closing the distance between them again. This time, he placed a hand on her far hip in a possessive grip, preventing her from fleeing.

Helluin, who was nearer to the pair, cleared his throat, drawing the dragon's attention to his hand on the hilt of his sword. Smaug growled at the elf and tightened his grip on Mirilas's hip, burying his face in her neck.

Mirilas whimpered and tried to force Smaug away with her magic. It worked in that he flew away from her to land at Helluin's feet. However, the chain connecting them yanked her with him. She tumbled into Helluin, taking him to the ground. All three of them ended up in a tangled heap as Ascar ran to them, ready to act if the dragon decided to take advantage of the situation.

"Tell me, Dragon. If you lose your arm, will Mirilas be free?" Ascar asked in a falsely cool voice.

Smaug hissed but said nothing as he disentangled the chain from his legs. Helluin groaned as he pushed the King's robe from his face and let Mirilas climb off of him.

"Are you injured?" Mirilas asked as she pulled her father's robe to her and wrapped herself in it again.

"What happened here?" a voice asked rom the other side of the tent. Feren had just entered with a folded up cot under his arm.

"The dragon was touching her!" Ascar exclaimed.

"I do not believe he will make that mistake again soon," Helluin said as he picked himself up from the ground and held a hand out to assist Mirilas. She accepted and rose, leaving her left arm down at her side so that she did not have to pull on the chain.

"Is he correct, Dragon?" Feren asked evenly as he set the cot on the ground.

Smaug huffed before saying, "Yes...for now." He picked himself up, uncaring for the dirt that covered his old though quite fine clothing. She assumed that he had found the clothes somewhere in the vast riches of Erebor.

Feren nodded and quickly set the cot up before moving to claim the chair to watch over his lady for the night. Helluin and Ascar resumed their stations on opposite sides of the tent, and Mirilas returned to her cot and laid down, hoping to fall asleep quickly despite all that had happened.

Smaug followed her willingly and settled on the offered cot beside hers. He, too, was tired, and there was little he could do this night.


	37. Chapter 37: A Dragon and a Princess

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"You sleep a lot for an elf." This was the first thing Mirilas heard as she woke. Her eyes snapped open to see Smaug peering at her with his black eyes much too close for comfort.

Mirilas recoiled from him, sending her rolling off the cot to the ground.

"Hiril nin," (My lady) Helluin said in concern, at her side in seconds to help pick her up.

"Hannon le," (Thank you) she said once she was standing before turning to the dragon. At least, they were separated by the cot now. This seemed to be about the most separation the chain would allow. "Why have you done this?" she asked, holding out her left arm attached to his right.

"Now that I have found you, Dragon Jewel, you will not leave me easily," he answered, allowing the space between them for now.

"Mirilas. My name is Mirilas," she corrected, having had enough of this 'Dragon Jewel' business.

"Finally," Smaug said with a smile. "Now we can begin."

"Begin what?" Mirilas demanded.

"Why, building a relationship, of course," Smaug said. "You did not think I would simply possess you?"

"Actually, yes," she replied. "That is exactly what I thought."

Smaug moved to step around the cot. When Mirilas immediately stepped back toward Helluin, the dragon stepped back to the same position, holding his hands up placatingly. "You are the Dragon Jewel, Mirilas. I want that power, but it seems I cannot have that power without you."

"That is...almost reassuring," Mirilas said with a frown.

"Almost?" the dragon questioned.

"You did threaten to take my power and leave me a husk," she reminded him.

"That I did," he assented, glad that there seemed to be a glimmer of banter. Perhaps, he could convince her?

"Hiril nin," (My lady) Feren said, deciding to break them up before the dragon wormed himself further into his lady's too-trusting heart. "Le nuva medi," (You need to eat) he said. He doubted she had eaten regularly since leaving the Woodland Realm.

Mirilas nodded to her servant and asked, "Would you please bring us something to eat?"

"Us?" the dragon asked, surprised that she would consider him so soon in their acquaintance. This might be easier than he thought.

"Unless you prefer to go hungry?" Mirilas asked.

Smaug chuckled. She had some cheek.

"Ah, what exactly do you eat?" Feren asked hesitantly.

"Meat. Raw," Smaug said bluntly.

"Of course, you do," Feren said in a surprisingly snarky tone (to his lady) as he exited the tent. Smaug was not surprised by the elf's behaviour. He doubted he had made any friends among the wood elves in his pursuit of their princess.

* * *

"Shall we begin?" Gandalf asked when all parties were seated. Thranduil and Bard sat on one side of the table as they had for previous negotiations with Thorin and Dain sitting opposite them. Gandalf situated himself at the head of the table, between the two groups in the hopes of acting as a mediator.

"Yes, Mithrandir," Thranduil said before looking to Thorin. "What would you have of me? How shall we make peace?"

"I have had word that your daughter has returned," Thorin said, the gleam of greed returning to his eyes. Thranduil's spine stiffened at this knowledge. He had meant to hide her from the dwarves for as long as possible. He should have known Thorin would find some way to ruin this plan.

"Yes. She returned with me," Gandalf confirmed. The Elf King shot him a look, but Gandalf knew that full disclosure was necessary to prevent war between their peoples. A lie at this stage could mean war.

"I would see her," Thorin said firmly. Since he had learnt of her arrival, her presence so near yet so very inaccessible had plagued his mind, feeding the insanity that brewed within him. He would not have her so very close when he could not see her.

"Absolutely not," Thranduil responded immediately. He was certain that Thorin only wanted to be near her so that he could take her and use her against him as he had undoubtedly meant to when he had taken her from the Woodland Realm. He would not put his daughter in such a position again, not when he could protect her.

"Might I see her, my Lord?" Bard asked, turning to the Elf King. He understood and fiercely supported keeping Thorin far from Mirilas after his behaviour in Lake Town, but he himself posed no threat to her, and he wanted to be sure she was recovering well from...whatever this Radagast had her doing. She had not looked well when she had arrived with Gandalf. Besides, he wanted to thank her in person for all she had done for his children.

"If he can see her, you _will_ allow me to see her as well," Thorin said quickly and with rather childish reasoning, Thranduil observed. It sounded much like either of his children's reasoning when they were elflings and thought that one was being treated differently from the other. Of course, he could not simply tell them that one of them was the crown prince with the many expectations that entailed while the other was his precious, and powerful, little jewel. Just as he would not tell Thorin that the only way he would be having his daughter would be over his cold, lifeless body.

"I am not currently under threat of war with the people of Lake Town as I am with the dwarves of Erebor and of the Iron Hills," Thranduil said coldly.

"It would not be wise for her to reveal herself so close to the Mountain and to Smaug," Gandalf chimed in before Dain could intervene on Thorin's behalf.

Thranduil sucked in a quick breath. He had not yet told Gandalf of what had happened. He meant to, truly, but after these negotiations were over. Gandalf might know how to free her.

"Why should it matter if I see her? Who is to tell Smaug? And how _dare_ you suggest that I would aid the wyrm that too my home?!" Thorin demanded. It was a fair point, but neither Thranduil nor Bard was willing to admit to such.

"Do ye really think we'd go traipsin' on down to tell the dragon about a little she-elf? And why would a dragon be interested in some pretty Elf King's daughter?" Dain asked, his voice higher than usual in indignation.

"I am sure that is not what Gandalf meant, my Lord," Bard defended quickly.

"Indeed. I meant to offense, Dain," Gandalf echoed.

"Then let the laddie see 'er!" Dain responded strongly, clapping Thorin on the back. "What would be the harm?"

"What indeed," Bard said worriedly.


	38. Chapter 38: Conversations

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"Are you sure this is wise, my Lord?" Bard questioned as he walked apace with the Elf King. The negotiations tent had been set up some ways from Mirilas to keep distance between her and the dwarves. This distance worked in their favour now, though not in the way the Elf King had imagined. "Allowing them near her?"

"I am sure," Thranduil replied seriously. "This is a chance to prevent the war you so fear." He suggested that at this point in their negotiations with the dwarves, a war was by no means the worst that could happen. Indeed, he rather preferred war to what seemed to be in the making both between his daughter and the dragon and between Thorin and the dragon.

"And I appreciate that, but at what cost? When Thorin sees her, he will want more. He is obsessed," Bard warned the Elf King.

"I am aware," Thranduil said blandly. He was not blind to the many possible consequences of this meeting.

"Do you not care? She is your daughter!" Bard exclaimed.

Thranduil stopped dead and grabbed the man's shoulder in a tight grasp. "She is the most precious thing in my life! I will not have you suggest otherwise! I have protected her for over a thousand years! I will not fail now due to some dwarf!"

"You are not failing, Thranduil. She is an elleth, now, not an elfling. You cannot shut her away as you would a child," Gandalf chimed in, having easily overheard their argument. He glanced back to where the dwarves were in conference with each other. They were too concerned with each other to attempt to listen to the elf and the man. Dain likely wanted to know the nature of Thorin's attachment to Mirilas. If they were very lucky, Dain could talk some sense into Thorin. Who would have ever thought that Dain would be the reasonable one of the two cousins?

"She is my child, Mithrandir, no matter her age," Thranduil responded coldly before seeming to remember something. "As it stands, there is a matter which requires your attention."

"What matter?" Gandalf asked suspiciously. Surely, he did not think that a wizard could kill a dragon alone? Or change Thorin's mind when it was so set? What did Thranduil think he could do to change this situation?

"It will become obvious when we arrive," Thranduil replied vaguely, turning to continue toward the tent and his daughter.

* * *

"So what's she like, this lassie of yours?" Dain asked lightly. Perhaps he could gain some insight as to what exactly Thorin had gotten himself into.

"Beautiful," Thorin answered bluntly, as if that was the only quality that mattered in a woman, regardless of her race.

"And?" Dain probed further, rather concerned that his cousin's first thought in describing the woman he was at the very least infatuated with and at the most obsessed with was to speak of her countenance rather than her personality. No knowing the disposition of the woman you wish to marry runs the risk of dooming yourself to a life of bitterness at dashed hopes and crushed expectations.

"Power," Thorin said after a second. This answer was little better. Enough marriages had been based on political gain, but the fervour with which Thorin pursued this she-elf belied such reasons for pursuing her as well as the fierceness with which he clung to the hope of ne day possessing her.

Dain sighed and asked, "Have you ever actually talked to her, Thorin?" If his cousin desired only her beauty and her power, there were easier ways of procuring such, ways that did not include going to war with the Woodland Realm.

"Yes!" Thorin insisted before realizing that he had only ever had a couple conversations with her, and they were very short, hardly enough to base even a description of her personality let alone a relationship.

"Really, Thorin? Then, what is she like? Does she know what you desire?"

"Ah...She was...She...Well, she _must_ know! Why else would I take her from her father's halls?" Thorin said, struggling to put to words seemingly any answer, satisfactory or no. His greed-riven mind could not, or rather would not, allow him to fully realise that she felt none of the regard he felt for her. It hardly mattered in his mind. He would possess her, regardless of any others' opinions or efforts in the matter.

"To come from a place of _strength_ when you negotiate with her father, Thorin! With her in our possession, we can take _anything_ from that pompous Elf!" Dain exclaimed. How could Thorin not see the advantages of having the Elf King under their thumb, especially when his realm was so very close to Erebor?

"Quiet!" Thorin hissed before saying lowly, "If I had her, I would _never_ give her back to him!" If he were to possess her, truly possess her, he would not allow her away from him again for anything.

"I know you love her, Laddie," Dain began, adding in his head ' _or yer obsessed with 'er'_. "But we have nothing of equal value to trade!"

"Do we not?" Thorin questioned. "Thranduil wants the White Gems of Lasgalen. He told me so himself. If we only get that necklace, we can trade it for her!" In his mind, the plan was flawless.

"Yer off yer head if ye think that Elf would trade his daughter for a necklace, no matter what it means to his people!" Dain hissed. He could not believe that he had somehow become the reasonable one! Whatever this she-elf had done to his head had messed him up something awful!

"Then how would you have me get her back?" Thorin bit out harshly.

"There are ways, Laddie, as I'm sure sure ye remember. But for now, let's go see this lassie of yours, make sure it's really her and all that," Dain said, clapping his cousin on the shoulder.

Thorin took a deep breath before gritting his teeth together and saying, "Very well."


	39. Chapter 39: An Argument

Chapter Thirty-Nine

"Ada!" (Father) Mirilas called lightly after swallowing a piece of apple quickly.

Thranduil spared a glance for the human-form dragon sitting beside his daughter, spearing barely-cooked meat with a knife and shoving it into his sharp-toothed mouth. The Elven King resisted the impulse to grind his teeth, instead walking over to his daughter to smooth her hair back from her face and press a kiss to her forehead. "Sell nin," (My daughter) he whispered to her, his love for her obvious to all present.

Gandalf walked in soon after, having been momentarily distracted by a quick look at the ramshackle fortifications around the ruins of Dale. The wizard was beyond surprised to see a (seemingly) human so near to Mirilas when her father had only just gotten her back. "I thought you intended to protect your daughter, Thranduil, not leave her with humans?" Gandalf demanded.

"I did, Mithrandir," Thranduil responded coldly. He lifted the magical chain with an elegant hand so that the wizard could see. "I cannot _keep_ her from _him_."

"Why would you do that, Mirilas?" Gandalf asked in utter bewilderment. She had been an intelligent, young elleth before all this. What would cause her to act so rashly?

I didn't," Mirilas answered flatly, locking eyes with the wizard with a look that showed her discontent with her current situation.

The man beside her chuckled darkly and said, "Yes. This is my doing, Wizard. I will not allow the Dragon Jewel away from me."

The wizard immediately realized who he was. No one but a dragon would call her the Dragon Jewel. "Smaug," Gandalf said, clutching his staff tightly in his hand.

"In the flesh, Wizard," Smaug responded, his eyes glowing briefly.

"I have little experience with this type of magic," Gandalf said as he walked over to examine the magical chain connecting the pair. "But I may be able to separate them." Smaug purposely began gobbling down meat again, jostling the chain away from the wizard's speculative gaze. Gandalf shot a look at the human-form dragon before purposefully grabbing the chain in his hand to examine it carefully.

"My lady," a familiar voice spoke in relief from the entrance of the tent.

The elves looked up to see Bard respectfully bowing his head to Mirilas in respect, though she suspected he only did this because her father was there. "Hello, Bard," Mirilas said with a smile that quickly faded from her face as she asked in concern, "I heard about Esgaroth. Are your children safe?"

"Yes, my lady, thanks to you, and thank you for looking after them," Bard responded quickly with a hint of fatherly pride. "I am in your debt," he said seriously.

"There is no need for that, Bard," Mirilas assured her, shaking her head gently.

"There is," Bard insisted.

"I doubt she will have much need of it," Thranduil said coldly from behind her, locking eyes with the man as if to warn him against becoming attached to his daughter, even in such a way.

Before Bard could defend himself to the Elven King, two sets of heavy footsteps came marching to the entrance of the tent. The dwarves had spent some minutes in conference with each other so that Dain could demand an explanation for Thorin's fixation upon Thranduil's daughter, though Thorin had not given a satisfactory answer.

"Thorin," Mirilas said coldly to her former captor.

Thorin hesitated as he stared at Mirilas once again, trying desperately to summon the hatred of the elves he had nursed for so long in an attempt to hide his true feelings for the elven princess. Thorin's gaze followed the shining silver hair draped elegantly over her shoulders and down her back to the ripped though no longer dirty gown hiding her form from his eyes. There was a hand in that silky hair, gently submerged in the straight locks where he wished his could be. He followed the hand up to a familiar silver robe. Thranduil.

Thorin's hatred flowed through him as he ground out, "Elf."

"Still bitter that I escaped from you before you could negotiate with my father?" Mirilas asked with false levity.

"So this is her, Thorin? She's got some fire in her, and what a pretty bargaining chip, even if she is an elf," Dain said lightly from behind Thorin as he looked the elleth over.

Mirilas stiffened at being appraised like an object while her father wrapped an arm around her shoulders protectively.

Thorin glared at Thranduil's arm on Mirilas as he growled out, "She is not yours, Elf."

"And you think she is yours, Dwarf?" Bard asked, jumping to her defence.

"She's not yours, either, _Bargeman_ ," Thorin hissed back, turning to Bard with a fierce scowl.

"And I know that. I am only a man, and she is an elf. Even if I did love her, I could not force her to mourn me for millennia!" Bard reasoned, glancing at Mirilas meaningfully. Mirilas returned the gaze gratefully, relieved that she did not have to worry about rejecting a man she respected so much.

By this point, Thranduil had heard enough. He swept around his daughter and the table, hiding her from their gazes. "Neither of you will ever have claim to my daughter so long as I draw breath!" Thranduil warned coldly.

"She was mine! She is mine! She _should_ be mine!" Thorin yelled in return, advancing on Thranduil. His menacing posture was belied by his much lesser height.

"Wrong, Dwarf. She is _my_ prize," Smaug hissed as he stood menacingly with a clawed hand pressed to the table. The table rocked dangerously, nearly ready to give under his weight. Mirilas glanced at the dragon in fear before plucking her goblet of water from the tablet just before it collapsed.

The tent was so silent they could hear the quiet conversations of the people of Lake Town, far as they were from the tent. The dwarves and Bard stared at the fallen table as though making eye contact with anyone would make the conflict erupt again.

"Who are you?" Bard asked speculatively, breaking the tense silence.

Before Smaug could answer and muddle the situation further, Mirilas said in unbridled annoyance, "This is Smaug."

"Yes, and he _chained_ himself to her with his magic," Gandalf said in exasperation with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

Dain pulled his war hammer from his belt while Thorin unsheathed his sword and Bard drew his knife, each ready to attack Smaug. In response, Thranduil drew his own sword and assumed a protective stance in front of his daughter.

Mirilas' eyes widened in fear at the many weapons being pointed threateningly at the dragon to which she was chained. She knew she had not yet recovered enough energy to protect herself, let alone launch an offensive against them. Instead, she sharply stood from her chair, only to drop to the ground when her vision began to spin. Gandalf picked the elleth up and place her back into her cot as her father attempted to handle the situation.

"You will stop this now. If he dies, Mirilas dies with him until she is free of his restraint," Thranduil warned them tightly.

Bard sheathed his dagger with a sigh, unwilling to sacrifice Mirilas' life even to kill the dragon that had destroyed his home and threatened the lives of everyone he knew.

Thorin slowly lowered his sword as he watched Gandalf settle Mirilas into her makeshift bed. Even exhausted, her smooth skin seemed to shine in the muted sunlight. He couldn't do it, much to his chagrin. He had wanted her for too long to kill her with the dragon. Thorin sheathed his sword with a heavy hand and a heavy heart.

Dain, however, cared less for the life of an elf compared to the life of the dragon that kept him and his family from the treasure of Erebor. "Why should I care at one elf's life when compared to the lives of my kin?" Dain asked, brandishing his war hammer.

"Enough!" Gandalf said sharply, turning from elleth to seem to grow menacingly before their eyes.

Slowly, Dain replaced his war hammer on his belt, cowed by the apparent might of the wizard.

Thranduil calmly sheathed his sword as he said forcefully, "You have seen her. That is all I agreed to. You will leave. Now."

Bard nodded first to the Elven King, then to the weary princess before turning to leave.

"Feren," Thranduil called, knowing his daughter's servant was waiting just outside.

The fabric of the tent rustled as the servant entered and asked, "Yes, my Lord?"

"Have Celon and Nenar remove these two _dwarves_ from our camp. Then, have someone clean this mess up," Thranduil commanded, gesturing first to Thorin and Dain then to the remains of Mirilas' and Smaug's meal on the floor. Dain huffed but grasped Thorin's shoulder in a tight grip, forcing Thorin to leave the tent.

Feren bowed and said, "Yes, my Lord," before hurrying out.

Thranduil sighed and sank into his chair. He knew that allowing them to see Mirilas would mean trouble for him.

"How much did it rankle you to defend a dragon, Elf?" Smaug asked smugly.

"I am in no mood for this, Dragon," Thranduil spit back.

Mirilas let out a frustrated sigh and asked in exasperation, "Can we not get along until I'm free of him?"

"And if you are never free of me, Little Elf?" Smaug questioned with a wry smile.


	40. Chapter 40: Her Power Draws You

Chapter Forty

"What would happen if you changed forms while we are still chained?" Mirilas asked.

Smaug cocked his head to the side in thought. "I do not know," he admitted. "I have had no need of this spell before you."

"So, if you ever want to return to your true form, you will be forced to release me?" Mirilas asked with a smile. She might be rid of this nuisance of a dragon yet.

"Who said I wanted to change forms when I can be near you like this?" Smaug asked, snaking an arm around her waist and leaning toward her.

Mirilas only rolled her eyes. The dragon was quite...touchy with her. Then again, so was Thorin..."Why do you men treat me like this?" she wondered aloud.

"You do not know?" he questioned, peering at her in surprise. Surely, she must have realized...Her beauty had to have attracted enough attention to her to draw some greedy suitors, eager to claim her and to possess her.

"What?" Mirilas asked.

"The effect you have on men, or rather males..." Smaug supplied.

"What are you talking about?" Mirilas asked, laughing a little at the thought. The only males she affected were Thorin and Smaug, and their interest did not seem connected to anything she had done or said.

"Oh, little one. You really must know. You are the Dragon Jewel. You hold the same appeal as the Arkenstone to the greedy," Smaug explained. How had she not heard the legends about herself? What her power would do without a protector?

"Like you?" she shot back immediately.

"Actually, no," Smaug said bluntly. "Gold is a comfortable bed for me, and I much prefer my lair devoid of life save for me...and perhaps you. You should be more concerned about the dwarf prince."

"Thorin?" Mirilas questioned. "Are you saying his behaviour is due to some...effect I have on him?"

"Yes," he confirmed with a nod. "You see, little one, your magic radiates the most... deliccccioussss energy. It calls to him, makes him want to possess you," the dragon hissed.

"Possess me," Mirilas echoed, trapped in her thoughts. At every opportunity, Thorin had sought to lay claim to her, seemingly with no regard for her opinion in the matter or, indeed, anyone else's than his own.

"So you _have_ noticed..." Smaug said lowly, drawing the elleth from her memories.

"I would have to be blind not to notice his attentions, but how was I to know that his infatuation was the result my magic?" Mirilas said, clearly distressed at this information.

Smaug snorted and observed, "You are quite lucky that lake man is made of nobler stock, else he would be just as ardent in his attentions."

"What are you saying?" Mirilas asked. She had only properly met one man of Lake Town, but the dragon could not possibly be speaking of Bard... She doubted Bard could ever be considered greedy. Surely, _he_ , of all people, was safe from her inadvertent draw.

"You did not know? Even he feels your draw."

"And you? Surely, _you_ must feel it," Mirilas said, lashing out at the dragon in an attempt to stop her tears.

"You hold a _very_ different appeal to me, my dear. I am a dragon, not some powerless, little man. Your magic itself calls to me. Possessing you is a means to an end."

"I will never be free, will I?" she asked in a hollow voice.

Smaug studied her curiously for a second. "You have the power to be free, my dear. You lack the will to make it so."

"I lack will?" she questioned, bristling.

"The will to cut ties with any who feel your pull? Aye."

"You are right. I could never do that," Mirilas assented, looking down to hide the feeling of helplessness that threatened to crush her heart.

"Then you will need a protector," Smaug said lightly.

"And who would that be? You, I suppose?" Mirilas returned, echoing his tone.

Smaug sent her a sly smile and said, "It could be..."

"My father has been performing that role for some time now. Could I not simply remain under _his_ protection? Avoid you entirely?"

"You could," Smaug agreed, "But you would never be free, as you wish."

"And how do you know what I wish?" Mirilas shot back.

"You could have returned home in an instant when you recovered your power. Yet, you did not. You chose danger...adventure...over safety."

Mirilas sighed and looked down. He was right.

* * *

"So that was interesting..." Dain began once they had left the ruins of Dale, the army of elves, and the people of Lake Town behind them.

Thorin continued to sulk as they made their way back to their camp on the plain in front of the Mountain. His gaze was riveted on his feet as his thoughts threatened to consume him.

"Do you not think, Thorin?" Dain continued, glancing at his cousin.

Thorin made eye contact with him but remained silent, returning his gaze to the ground.

"Thorin? Thorin, do you have a plan? Thoughts? Anything?" Dain questioned, stopping his cousin with a hand on his shoulder.

"I do not know what comes over me, Dain, but she..." Thorin began, trying to put into words the feeling that had been plaguing him.

"She has some power over you, Thorin. It is easy to see. Do you really want her close when she changes you so much?" Dain said.

Thorin looked up at his cousin with renewed determination. "Yes, and I will not stop until I have her."

"Then, Thorin, I think you know. There is only one way to get what you want," Dain said with raised eyebrows.

"And what is that?" Thorin questioned lowly.

"War."

"You want me to go to war over an elf?" Thorin asked in surprise. It momentarily slipped his mind just which ant they spoke of.

"No. I want you to go to war to recover Erebor and kill that dragon, but if some prissy, little she-elf gets you to do that, so be it."


	41. Chapter 41: This Means War

Chapter Forty-One

"My people will take up residence in the Mountain tomorrow," Thorin said as if his opinions was the only one of consequence in this matter. This was how he began their negotiations?

"Then will you honour your promise to my people?" Bard questioned. Perhaps, this situation would end amicably?

"Not while an army threatens my right to my homeland," Thorin snarled with surprising hostility.

"What would you prefer, my Lord? My people have _nothing_ , and you promised your aid," Bard reminded the dwarves.

"And you seek _my_ birthright for yourselves!" Thorin exclaimed in return.

"Yes, as you _swore_. We have _nothing_ , Thorin!" Bard returned in earnest.

"As do we!" Thorin shot back.

"Then why did you not turn your efforts to the dragon you were so desperate to slay? Or, did you want another to do your work for you so that you could claim the profits?" Thranduil accused.

"I tried to kill that damnable wyrm!" Thorin insisted.

"Did you, Thorin? Bilbo said that you sent him in to steal the Arkenstone while the rest of you waited outside. What have you done to assume the risks of dragon slaying, Thorin?" Gandalf pointed out. Bilbo had managed to find the wizard soon after he arrived in Dale to tell him of what had transpired since he had parted with Thorin's Company on the border of Mirkwood.

Thorin snarled and shot back, "Your hobbit knew the risks! He signed a contract!"

"Yes, and now he is free of it. You will not use him again," Gandalf said firmly.

"I have no need for cowardly hobbits!" Thorin yelled. Bilbo's perceived betrayal had cut him more deeply than he cared to admit.

"The hobbit is not the issue at present," Thranduil said, attempting to draw Thorin back to the matter at hand.

"Is peace possible between you two?" Bard asked bluntly to stop their arguing.

"Yes," Thorin said firmly before the Elf King could answer.

"And what, pray tell, would be the terms of such a peace? I have rejected your other terms, so they had better be new," Thranduil said.

"Oh, they're new," Dain said lightly.

"Really? And what are they?" the Elf King returned.

"Both the Woodland Realm and Lake Town will receive a share of the riches of Erebor," Thorin began.

"And in return?" Bard asked suspiciously. This was far too generous an offer. What could they possibly ask for that was worth so much? And then, it hit him.

"A marriage between myself and the Princess Mirilas," Thorin said with a grin.

"No-" Bard began to say.

"Absolutely not-" Thranduil insisted.

"What-" Gandalf began to ask.

Thorin waited until all three stopped talking before saying, "If you do not agree to my condition, it is war."

"No! You cannot do this!" Bard protested.

Thorin observed the man with raised eyebrows as his lips pursed into a thin line. "I can, and I will," Thorin declared.

"Not to worry, Laddie. We will not attack until dawn tomorrow," Dain said to the man with a grin that spoke of his eagerness for combat. They should have known that war was inevitable when negotiating with Thorin and Dain.

* * *

"Ladinion, bring Celon to me," Thranduil instructed as he strode through the ruins of Dale at a quick pace.

"Nau, Aran nin," (Yes, my King) Ladinion said quickly, nodding before speeding off to find the king's guard and commander of the army in the King's stead.

"Nenar, find me Galion," Thranduil continued.

"Nau, Aran nin," (Yes, my King) Nenar responded, hurrying off to fulfil his instructions.

Thranduil sighed and paused in front of his tent, bracing himself before entering. His daughter was‒ finally, wearing the silver gown Feren had brought, he noted‒ settled in his chair while the dragon paced in front of her. Feren was standing beside the elleth. He seemed ready to intercede on her behalf should Smaug decide to lash out at anyone. Ascar and Helluin were situated on opposite sides of the tent, preventing any escape.

"Ada?" (Father?) Mirilas called, "Le tira caul. Man cara?" (You look worried. What has happened?)

"Thorin declared war," Thranduil said in the Common Tongue, unsure of Smaug's grasp of Sindarin.

Mirilas sucked in a worried gasp and frowned. "When will they attack?" she asked, sinking into the seat as though sapped of her energy.

"Tomorrow at dawn," he supplied.

Mirilas nodded in understanding.

Before she could ask any of the many questions swimming through her head, Galion walked into the tent and bowed to the Elf King. "Aran nin," (My King) Galion said.

"Galion, I need you to arrange for all of the wagons to return to the Woodland Realm. Pack the tents and send them back before tomorrow," Thranduil commanded.

"Yes, my King," Galion responded without question before leaving the tent.

"Feren, you will help the healers. Go to them now. Help with their preparations," Thranduil instructed. Reluctantly, Feren complied, glancing back at his lady as he left.

"Helluin, Ascar, you will take my daughter and the dragon away from here-" Thranduil continued before being interrupted.  
"Ada! No!" Mirilas protested.

"You will take them to the Lake. If I do not come in two days, return her to the Woodland Realm," Thranduil continued, not acknowledging his daughter's objections.

"Please, Ada, I want to stay..." Mirilas pleaded softly as her guards bowed to their King.

"Why?" he asked bluntly. "You will not fight, and I will not risk your safety."

"I could protect her," Smaug offered suddenly, surprising everyone else.

"Out of the question," Thranduil shot back.

"I know you do not trust me, but I have an interest in her life," the dragon said.

"You misunderstand me, Dragon. I know you would protect her, but I cannot risk you running off with her," Thranduil responded briskly before turning to Helluin, "You will leave now."

"Yes, my King," Helluin responded stiffly, walking to the princess's side and holding a hand out for her to take.

Mirilas hesitated, glancing up at her father. His face was deadly serious. She sighed and took the offered hand, allowing Helluin to pull her to her feet.


	42. Chapter 42: Another Army?

Chapter Forty-Two

Dawn came to the Lonely Mountain. The morning was cold and clear. The sun shone from low on the horizon, glinting off the armour of the elven and dwarven armies situated on the plain in front of the gate of Erebor. The only sounds came from the clopping of hooves.

Thranduil rode his giant elk proudly out to meet Dain between their two armies. The much shorter dwarf was made marginally taller by his large boar-like mount. Each stopped as they met, each animal as calm as its rider.

"Are you resolved in your course?" Thranduil asked evenly, already knowing what the answer would be.

"Aye, that I am," Dain returned with a nod of his bearded head.

"Very well," Thranduil said, turning his elk to return to the head of his army.

"Ye hear that, Lads? We're on! Let's give these bastards a good hammerin'!" Dain called as he returned to his army to survey the elves before him. Neither side truly knew how this day would end, but each was confident that their side was in the right: the dwarves to reclaim Erebor and the elves to protect their princess.

Before either side could attack, a deep rumbling came from the hills behind the dwarven army opposite the Mountain. All eyes turned to the hill, not sure what to expect.

When huge, monstrous worms shot out of immense holes in the ground followed by hoards of orcs, Gandalf could not help but feel vindicated. He and his advice had been largely ignored during these negotiations. He had attempted to warn them both that their common enemy was amassing an army of orcs, but he had been dismissed out of hand by all except Bard, who had listened only briefly before following Thranduil's advice (of all people, Thranduil!) in ignoring the wizard's warning.

A great horn sounded, and a call in Black Speech came from high atop Raven Hill. In response, the orc army advanced on the dwarves, who quickly about-faced at the command of their general and formed a turtle formation of their shields, a solid barrier against the orcs. "The hordes of hell are upon us! To battle, sons of Durin!" Dain called, rallying his troops against this new enemy.

Thranduil saw his chance. He quickly ordered his soldiers forward, leaping over the dwarven turtle formation to kill the first ranks of the orcs with ease. Battle was joined.

* * *

"You know I can help, Helluin!" Mirilas insisted.

"It matters not, my lady. The King has commanded me to keep you safe away from the battle, and that is what I will do," Helluin returned from where he sat beside the lakeshore.

"Ascar! Please! You have seen what I am capable of!" Mirilas pleaded, turning to the other twin who lounged on a nearby rock, clearly enjoying the sunlight.

"I have, my lady," Ascar acknowledged, "But your father entrusted you to us. I cannot betray his trust and ignore my duty."

"Your duty is to protect me! If I go, you are protecting me by accompanying me!" Mirilas contended.

"You and I both know that we cannot allow you to go," Ascar said apologetically.

Just then, a deep, resounding horn unlike any the elves had heard rang out through the valley, resonating down the River Running even so far as the Long Lake, whose shores were their camp.

"What was that?" Mirilas asked in fear, voicing what each of them was wondering. The only thing of which they were all certain was that this horn could mean nothing good. Even Smaug, who recognized the horn from his younger days, knew that his objectives could only be hindered by the owners of that horn.

"Now, you are _definitely_ not going!" Helluin said firmly.

"But something is wrong!" Mirilas objected.

Smaug heard no more of their argument, instead deciding whether he should help or not. That horn must mean there was an orc army marching on the Mountain, on _his_ home. There was an army of dwarves and an army of elves between them and it, but it was no less of an insult. The dwarves and the elves could have banded together against their common enemy, in which case Smaug was fairly well-assured of keeping his prize, assuming, of course, that they won this battle. If they did not, he would be looking for a new home or reclaiming his old lair far to the north of here.

If the dwarves and elves did not band together, they would most definitely not win. The orcs would then try to take possession of _his_ lair. He would be free to take his prize, but he would have no lair to return to. This could not happen.

He was not yet sure if it was worth his while to intercede, but he needed to know what was happening with that battle to know if it was time to flee with his Dragon Jewel.

However, he was still chained to her. If he released her and left her here, she could flee back to her forest home. She would be lost to him. He could keep her chained and risk killing her when he changed, but he would not lose her power when it could easily be prevented. That left the final option: unchain her and take her with him. She would be safe enough if they flew high. No arrow could reach as high as he could fly. Yes, he decided. This was his next course of action, though her guards would be staying right here.

Smaug signalled to the elleth was a light yank on the chain. Her guards thought nothing of the noise as it did not sound as though she was fleeing and continued to stare off either into the waters of the lake or up to the clear sky. Mirilas quieted and looked to Smaug in confusion. He offered her a sly smirk and drew her closer.

Mirilas was not sure what Smaug was planning, but he could not mean to take advantage of her. He knew that she could simply scream and draw the attention of her guards back. What could he be thinking?

Smaug grasped Mirilas's chained wrist in a surprisingly gentle hold. A second later, there was a flash of red light, and the weight of the chain was gone from her wrist. The elf glanced to her guards quickly. Once it was clear that neither of them had seen the flash, she turned back to Smaug with a very confused look. He only put a finger to his lips.

Then, Smaug transformed. This, her guards noticed. How could they not when one second a man stood beside their princess and the next his immense girth was crushing trees underfoot? They quickly stood, drawing their swords and hurrying to the princess.

Before they could reach her, Smaug had grasped her in his talons and placed her atop his scaled back. The surface was immense. Mirilas could easily lay on his back sideways without hanging off.

"Hold on, little one," Smaug warned. Mirilas barely had time to throw her arms around the nearest spike on his back before he took off, flying high into the sky.

Helluin and Ascar stared after them in stunned silence. "That, I was not expecting," Ascar admitted as the dragon turned to fly back toward the Mountain.

"Nor was I," Helluin returned.

"We should follow them," Ascar said, still staring up into the sky.

"If we hurry, we can make the journey in, say, seven hours," Helluin offered.

Ascar sighed and said, "Let's get going, then."


	43. Chapter 43: A Dragon Overhead

Chapter Forty-Three

"Thorin! Look!" Dwalin yelled, pointing up into the sky with his battle axe before turning back to chop off the head of an orc in one blow.

Thorin looked up to the sky, confused at what Dwalin could possibly be so worried about. This was battle! Dwalin knew this was no time for sightseeing! Thorin froze in horror at the sight of a dragon flying high above the battle. This was it. That betraying Elf King had finally double-crossed them. The dragon must be fighting for him. He would kill them all and take the Mountain, the treasure, and Mirilas for himself, and there was nothing he could do about it. At this range, no arrow, black or no, could reach the dragon.

The dwarf realized something then. Smaug was not attacking. He circled the battlefield, yes, but he was not helping either side. As Gandalf had once said, 'a dragon could be used to terrible effect.' So, why was he not attacking? What was the purpose of circling the battlefield when he could easily tip the scales one way or the other?

Thorin decided that the dragon's peculiar actions did not matter and returned his focus to the battle, running forward to kill any orcs within the reach of his sword. The dragon's presence had distracted many of the orcs, who stood rather stupidly gaping at the huge beast instead of fighting the dwarves and the elves. Thorin used this distraction to kill many orcs around him, as, he noticed, had many of the elves. So, elves did have some sense in them. Was Thranduil just insane? Unfortunately, the orcs seemed to be recovering from the shock of a dragon flying above them to continue the battle, no longer easy targets. They required his full attention once again.

Had Thorin looked closer at the dragon, he would have noticed a tiny, silver figure clinging to Smaug's back. Mirilas laid flat against the dragon's back, enjoying the wind whipping her hair around behind her as she had not enjoyed anything for a long time. Here on the dragon's back, she was free, more free than she could remember being since she was an elfling.

Mirilas reluctantly turned her attention from the utter joy she felt to the battle that raged far below her. There was an army of orcs pitted against the dwarves and the elves! The horn she had heard must have been an orc horn, but why had it been so loud?

Ah! What did it matter? The dwarves and the elves were fighting together! Side by side against the orcs! The arrival of this orc army could well be the best thing that could have happened!

Unless...Unless the orcs won. Then, they would all die. This could not happen. But what could she do? She was out of range to cause any real damage to the orc army with a spell. The only way to help would be to convince Smaug to fly lower at the very least or even fight, if she was lucky.

Wait...There was the horn again! It was much louder here by the Mountain. What were they signalling?

No! They were attacking Dale! The people of Lake Town were there! How dare they attack those innocent people?!

Mirilas reached out with her magic and invaded the dragon's mind to say urgently, " _We have to help, Smaug_!"

" _Get out of my mind, little one!"_ Smaug snarled back.

" _Please! They are attacking Dale! Those people are defenceless!"_ she pleaded, pressing images into his mind of the people of Lake Town.

" _Are they, little one?_ _They have men. Can they not defend their own people?"_ Smaug questioned. He failed to see why the plight of the people of Lake Town, whom he had displaced from the Long Lake in the first place, was his concern, or his elf's, for that matter.

" _No! Not against orcs!"_ Mirilas insisted, summoning her memories of the orcs invading Lake Town to kill the dwarves and pressing them into his mind. They had been very nearly helpless. If her brother and Tauriel had not been there, Bard's children would have been killed!

" _It matters not, little one. Even if I was to help, I would kill many of them in the process, which I am sure you do not want,"_ the dragon reasoned, using the inevitable collateral damage to deter her from forcing him to risk not only his life but hers as well.

Mirilas squeezed her eyes shut in guilt. He was right. There was nothing they could do. Unless... If they attacked the orc army out on the plain, the orcs in Dale might leave the city to help their fellows as reinforcements, right? She repeated her plan to Smaug, who mentally rolled his eyes at her persistence.

" _Please, Smaug! If the orcs win, what will become of your lair?"_ she pleaded, unknowningly using the dragon's exact concern.

She was right. The puny, little elves and dwarves had to win. Perhaps, it _was_ time to tip the scales in their favour. This, he could do, he thought with a malevolent grin.

Smaug swooped down toward the orc armies far below, setting a huge swath of the unsuspecting orcs on fire. " _Thank you!"_ Mirilas crowed in his mind in victory as the dragon soared back up into the sky to come around for another pass at the army.

Mirilas left a tentative link between their minds and summoned more of her magic to her to send an explosive fireball flying down toward the orcs. The fireball exploded on impact, leaving over a hundred orcs dead in its wake.

Mirilas could feel Smaug chuckling on his swooping descent to the far side of the orc army. Through the minimal link between their minds, she could feel what could only be described as a sadistic glee at dealing out so much death. Mirilas shook the rather disturbing feeling from her mind to focus on causing as much devastation as possible to the orc army.


	44. Chapter 44: Raven Hill

Chapter Forty-four

Smaug pulled up from his downward swoop toward the orc army. As he did, Mirilas's eyes looked up to survey the battle as a whole. A large portion of the orc army was destroyed or on fire, but the orcs in Dale showed no signs of leaving the city. The people of Lake Town's only hope was the ending of the battle on the plain, leaving the elven and dwarven armies available to aid the men. Mirilas was fairly certain that her father would help, but she was not so sure of the dwarves, particularly Thorin.

Something caught the elf's eye just then. High up on the crest of Raven Hill, there was a strange contraption that a particularly large, pale orc was using to signal the orc armies. This must be the commander!

" _Smaug! Look at Raven Hill! That orc is commanding the army from there!"_ Mirilas called in her companion's mind.

The dragon took a wide turn around the tip of the mountain to fly toward Raven Hill, trusting his elf's vision as well as her judgment. However, the orc was gone, leaving on the strange device atop the hill. Smaug slowed his flight to land harshly on the top of the hill. They could see old tunnels and defensive structures built into the side of the hill but no orcs.

"Where are they?" Smaug asked, peering around for any sign of the orcs.

All at once, orcs leapt out of hiding places all around the pair, surrounding them. Smaug crouched low in preparation to take flight again, but a warg jumped out at his back, knocking the elleth from her place to the ice below.

The dragon twisted his large body around to find his little elf. When it appeared that the orcs were more interested in him than her, he quickly swept his tale around, knocking half of them over the cliff. He curled his body around again, hoping to strike at the remaining orcs, keeping his concentration away from his elf and the warg that had downed her with such ease.

Mirilas quickly jumped to her feet to stare at the large, white warg standing mere feet from her, seeming to wait for something rather than attack her. At this cessation of hostilities, Mirilas quirked her head to the side before reaching out with a tendril of magic to enter the warg's mind. She was imemdiately surprised by the creature's intelligence. She had been prepared to soothe a beast, but instead found a sentient being. " _Please do not harm me,"_ she asked in a gentle voice.

" _Pretty elf. Pretty toy for Master,"_ the warg responded gently as its eyes gleamed at her.

Without warning, the warg leapt at Mirilas, intent on knocking her to the icy ground and keeping her from fleeing. The elleth reacted on instinct, throwing out a hand and with it a flash of magic that sent the warg tumbling over the cliff to its death.

A furious growl was all the warning she got before a mass of pale, muscular flesh barrelled at her with what appeared to be some sort of crude weapon in place of a forearm. Mirilas flinched away, throwing her arms up to shield her face.

When the clang of metal against metal rang out and nothing touched her, Mirilas hesitantly peeked out from her arms to see Thorin standing between her and this massive orc. His sword had stopped the pale orc's strike, saving her life. The dwarf forced the pale orc away from Mirilas, throwing it to the icy ground with his force.

"Go!" Thorin called back to her as he placed himself between Mirilas and the pale orc. The elf could only stare at this dwarven prince that had gone from kidnapping her from her home to selflessly saving her life. Before, she had held nothing but distaste for Thorin. Now, however, her feelings were not entirely negative toward him. She doubted she could ever trust the dwarf, let alone like him, but she was grateful to him for his actions.

Mirilas was forced from her thoughts when a goblin came scurrying toward her with a crude sword in hand and raised to strike her down. The elf rose to her feet and held out a single hand, throwing the goblin into the rocky mountain face behind it.

Unfortunately, more came, too many for her to fight off alone. Thorin's selfless act might well be in vain. Mirilas fought her best, but she was soon surrounded. Fear coiled in the elleth's stomach at the prospect of her own death.

Before the goblins could strike her down, a large, burly, and familiar dwarf came hurtling in on the back of some sort of fighting boar to strike down the goblins almost single-handed. "Dwalin!" Mirilas cried in recognition.

"Lassie," Dwalin acknowledged as two more dwarves, the dark-haired archer and his blonde brother, rode up behind him.

"Thank you," the elleth said with the utmost gratefulness.

High above them, Smaug soared around Raven Hill in search of his elf. He had been forced to take flight to avoid being swarmed by goblins, and in doing so he had been separated from his little elf. However, under no circumstances would he leave her to face the goblins alone, nor would he allow her to die while there was life yet in his body.

There she was! His little elleth was surrounded by goblins not too far from where he had landed. An unfamiliar feeling washed over the dragon as the goblins tried to attack his elf: worry. He had been sure he would feel jealousy at the threat to his possession of her, but instead he could not stand the thought that she would leave this world, leave him. It was not to be born.

Smaug quickly swooped low over Raven Hill, keeping his eyes locked on his elf as dwarves rode up the hill to kill the goblins surrounding her. The dragon was relieved at this but nonetheless grabbed his elf in his talons, depositing her on his back in a quick manoeuvre involving dropping her and swooping under her. Mirilas sighed in relief as she clung to one of his back spikes before flipping herself over to free herself to start casting spells at the droves of orcs.

Smaug enjoyed the little weight of the elleth on his back as proof that she was safe. No one could take her from him here.


	45. Chapter 45: Warn the Dwarves!

Chapter Forty-Five

Gandalf ran through the ruins of Dale in search of the Elf King. Only he had the available soldiers to save the dwarves on Raven Hill from the coming goblins.

"My Lord!" Gandalf called as soon as he saw Thranduil. "Dispatch this force to Raven Hill!" he said as he hurried over to the Elf King. "Thranduil, the dwarves are about to be overrun. They must be warned."

"By all means, warn them," Thranduil began, "But I shall not help them. I have spent enough elvish blood in defence of those greedy diggers. No more."

"Thranduil!" Gandalf protested, unsure how best to convince the Elf King. He knew there was nothing he could say that would convince Thranduil to save the dwarf that had taken his daughter from him. "You cannot abandon this battle!"

"I shall not, but nor will I aid the dwarves of Erebor," Thranduil returned before striding away.

"I'll go," Bilbo said, stepping out of the doorway he had been hiding in.

"Don't be ridiculous," Gandalf rejected out of hand, glancing at the hobbit. "You'll never make it."

"Why not?" the hobbit questioned. He refused to give up on the dwarves after so much.

"Beause they will see you coming and kill you!" Gandalf said as though it was obvious, approaching the hobbit to impress upon him the seriousness of this warning.

"No, they won't," Bilbo returned rather too lightly for the situation. "They won't see me," Bilbo assured the wizard.

Gandalf peered down at the little hobbit for a couple seconds before saying, "It's out of the question." He frowned in curiosity. Why was Bilbo so certain that he would not be seen? Hobbits were quiet, yes, but they were not invisible. "I won't allow it."

Bilbo lowered his voice to impress upon him the firmness of his decision. "I'm not asking you to allow it."

Gandalf peered down at the hobbit. He really meant to do this, and there was nothing he could do to stop him. He might die. Or, he might save the lives of the dwarves.

The wizard did not stop the hobbit as he ran off toward Raven Hill.

Bilbo slipped around the corner and pressed his back to a wall covered in faded paint before pulling the Ring from his pocket. He stared at it for a second before slipping the Ring onto his finger, disappearing from the sight of most on Middle Earth. Almost silently, Bilbo began to run up to Raven Hill.

* * *

Legolas stood perched high atop a ruined tower overlooking the frozen waterfall that fell from Raven Hill to the plain far below. Four of the dwarves stood in a loose circle on the ice of the frozen river, fighting off the goblin hoards and the pale orc commanding them.

How easy it would be to kill Thorin where he stood! It would take but one arrow! A single shot, and there would be one less threat to his sister. If he was to leave the Woodland Realm to join Tauriel in her banishment, he could not leave his own sister at the risk of that greedy dwarf. But, could he kill this dwarf? The others would be sure to see him. They would know that an elf had killed their King. More than that, they would know that he was his father's son. There would never be peace.

The pale orc was in range, as well. One good shot to the head could rid the world of this general of Sauron.

His decision made, Legolas took aim at the pale orc. Unfortunately, the pale orc sprang forward to attack Thorin just as Legolas fired. The arrow meant for the orc general's head instead lodged itself deep in the orc's muscular shoulder, nearly immobilising his left arm.

Legolas disregarded this. Instead, he opened fire on the goblins, shooting down enough for the dwarves to survive this clever ambush. Many of the goblins noticed their new situation and ran off into the ruins atop Raven Hill, hoping to escape with their lives.

All the dwarves save Thorin ran off after the few remaining goblins. This was when Legolas spotted Bolg, Azog's lieutenant and son. The elf prince quickly leapt down from the tower to follow Bolg, leaving Thorin to face Azog alone.

The Dwarf King stayed to face Azog, his foe. Thorin fought well, taking advantage of Azog's immobilised arm to wound him twice more, first with a deep slice to his thigh and then with a slashing wound to the orc's chest.

Just before he could kill the pale orc, Azog landed a heavy blow to Thorin's leg, breaking the femur and gouging a large chunk of flesh from his thigh. Thorin howled in pain as Azog pulled his crude arm implement from the dwarf's leg and raised the weapon overhead to deal a final blow to the dwarf.

In a swift move that jarred Thorin's wound terribly, the dwarf lunged for his sword as he flipped himself over before stabbing Azog in the heart. The force of Azog's blow pushed the orc farther down the sword, impaling himself on the sword.

Azog let out a gasp as his weaponised arm dropped down to crack the ice beside Thorin's head. The orc died before Thorin could shove his body off to the side and slide his sword out.

"Thorin!" a shout came from the nearby ruins as Thorin tried to use his sword as a cane to stand. However, the pain was too great. The dwarf dropped back down to his uninjured leg's knee as the ice below him cracked.

Then, there were hands on his chest and his arm, throwing his arm over small shoulders and supporting his weight to keep it off his broken leg.

"Bilbo," Thorin said before wincing at another throb of pain.

"Come on, Thorin. The ice is cracking," Bilbo said, struggling under the dwarf's weight as he moved Thorin from the smooth ice of the frozen river to fluffy snow of the riverbank.

There, Bilbo collapsed, taking the dwarf with him into a snow bank. The hobbit quickly heaved himself up to try to staunch the bleeding in Thorin's leg with his own coat. "Thorin!" Bilbo called the dwarf's name.

"Do not worry, Bilbo. I will not die from this," Thorin assured the hobbit through gritted teeth. He had suffered worse injuries than this. With proper treatment, he would live.

Bilbo let out a breath of relief at the thought but did not stop caring for Thorin's leg.


	46. Chapter 46: Victory?

Chapter Forty-Six

Tauriel ran through the ruins atop Raven Hill, killing goblins as they fled from the dwarves. Where was Kili? She had seen him with his fellows fighting back the goblins from the bridge, but he and the rest save Thorin had followed the goblins as they fled. He had to be here somewhere!

"Kili!" she shouted when the there were no more goblins in sight. Her eyes looked up to the sky as it clouded over and threatened to snow This would make fighting up here more dangerous, but none of that mattered until she found Kili.

"Tauriel!" a familiar voice called out from farther up in the ruins. Jer heart lifted at the sound before plummeting. He sounded like he was in trouble!

Tauriel easily located the source of the shout and ran to help Kili. From the sounds of battle echoing down from higher up in the ruins, she was now sure that he needed aid.

Before she knew what had hit her, a familiar orc kicked her into a nearby wall. Tauriel quickly stopped her momentum with her arms on the wall to stop her body from slamming into the wall full force to spring around and attack the orc before it could take advantage of her weak position

Tauriel and Bolg traded blows before the orc grabbed her wrist, twisting her knife from her grasp. The elleth let out a shriek of pain that was cut off as Bolg grabbed her neck in one of his large hands and lifted her from the ground, intent on choking the life from her.

Before the orc could kill her, Tauriel kicked the orc in the knee. Both of them fell to the snow as Tauriel groped for her knife, her only remaining defence. Bolg quickly stood, but before he could attack her, Kili tackled the orc to the ground, leading his charge with the tip of his sword. When Kili picked himself up from atop the orc, he pulled his sword from Bolg's dead body, now confident that this orc could no longer hurt Tauriel.

Tauriel and Kili could not do more than smile at each other before more goblins descended upon them, but now they were together, and together they fought.

Unfortunately, there were more goblins than they had expected. One of them landed a lucky blow to Kili's shoulder, crushing the bones with a crude warhammer. Tauriel easily killed the goblin before turning to Kili. The wound looked horribly painful, though unless he bled out, he was not likely to die.

Satisfied at the dwarf's condition, Tauriel quickly eliminated the few remaining goblins before running back to Kili's side, sinking to her knees as she could use what little training she had in healing to care for his shoulder. At times like these, she wished that she had gone to the healers more often to supplement the little training in healing that all of the guards of the Woodland Realm received.

As she did, a great swarm of bats flew over their heads on their way to the plain. Tauriel ducked her head down, flattening her body against Kili's in the hopes of avoiding the bats' attention. These bats were large and, by the looks of them, deadly. She only hoped that the combined might of the dwarves and the elves could destroy them as the dragon had managed to more than decimate the orc army.

Before she could worry any further, a great eagle flew overhead to grab one of the large bats in its giant talons, piercing the bat's leathery hide and killing it. This eagle moved on to attack still more of the bats, but one eagle alone could not make much of a dent in the bats' numbers.

The answer to this problem followed soon after. Many eagles followed the first, attacking the swarm of great bats and quickly reducing their numbers before they could even reach the plain. They might just have a chance, yet.

* * *

Mirilas could feel the fatigue weighing down her limbs. It was getting harder to hold onto Smaug's back spike, and her spells were becoming weaker. She had fully pulled out of Smaug's mind some time ago to conserve her energy to use against the orcs. Now, she was near her limit. She could not cast any more.

Fortunately, most of the orcs on the plain, the easiest targets for both her and Smaug, were dead. Dain and his dwarves were handling the orcs' final defeat there. Raven Hill was clear of the secondary goblin forces that had ambushed the dwarves, and what little she could see of Dale had very few orcs. The men of Lake Town, and even some of the women she could see now, had done an admirable job clearing them from the city, though she had seen a battalion of her father's army enter the city to help them.

The eagles of the Misty Mountains had been most welcome when they killed most of the great bats before they could attack either Smaug and her or any of the forces of dwarves, elves, or men. All in all, it appeared as though they might have made it through this battle, and just in time, too.

A screech filled the elf's ears as a black form came hurtling toward her, trying to knock her from the dragon's back where they flew. Mirilas threw up a hand and knocked the great bat off its flight path. As the magic flowed through her again, horrible pain followed close behind. Mirilas cried out as a burning pain spread through her body, seeming to light every nerve in her body on fire.

Along with this awful pain, Mirilas felt herself drawing Smaug's power to her without her trying. When she tried to stop it, the pain only got worse. Mirilas surrendered to the pain, allowing Smaug's power to flow into her with increasing speed and volume.

Suddenly, Mirilas's entirely body let out a blinding flash of light more powerful than she had ever seen. Before the power of the light had fully left her body, the pain was gone, and so, it seemed, was everything else. The world went black, and Mirilas collapsed against Smaug's back, unconscious.


	47. Chapter 47: Changed

Chapter Forty-Seven

Smaug hurriedly flew down to the plain, landing just outside of Dale where he had seen some of those little elf warriors congregating. If he was lucky, his elf's father was among them to check on his elf. He had felt her sapping his power faster by far than she had during the heat of battle. She had already pulled out from his mind, so he could not ask her what was going on.

Then, she had screamed. He twisted his body around, thinking for sure that something had dared to attack her whilst she laid atop his back, but he could see nothing, feel no more weight on his back. He could barely see her in this position, but he could tell that she was in serious pain. What had happened? Was she...Was this her change?

Meanwhile, Thranduil had seen the dragon swoop in for a hasty landing before turning this way and that to peer at his own back. He knew that his daughter had been there during the battle...Had she been injured? What had that dragon allowed to happen to her?!

The Elf King ran to the dragon, leaping up to his back in two quick bounds.

There she was, clinging to the dragon's back even unconscious as she was. But, that was not what concerned him. Her skin had changed. Where before had been smooth but pale skin were facets of a jewel white as diamonds that shone in a manner unnervingly similar to the Arkenstone. Her hair, too, had changed. Her hair that before had shone silver in any sort of light now gave off a light of its own, shining like the stars.

Thranduil carefully cradled this strange but stunning creature in his arms and leapt down from the back of the dragon, bringing her out in front of the dragon's head.

As soon as Smaug saw what his little elf had become, he hissed in recognition. "Her magical maturity...She is truly the Dragon Jewel..."

Thranduil looked up at the dragon sharply. While he was beyond relieved that Smaug knew what had happened to his daughter, he had heard the admiration and knowing in his voice. There was more to this that the dragon had not told him yet, but he would.

Mirilas's eyes snapped open just then. She peered up at her father with eyes that glowed with their own light like two shining emeralds. While beautiful, the light was eerie.

"Ada!" (Father!) the elleth gasped, throwing her arms up to embrace Thranduil with eyes clenched closed in relief.

"Ah, sell nin! I am so very proud of you," (Oh, my daughter!) Thranduil said in relief as he felt the new facets of her jewelled skin slide against his armour and the delicate skin of his neck.

"Don't give me a great elk, Ada...Let me _fly_ ," she said. The joy she had felt while flying was quite evident in her tone.

Smaug silently observed his elf in pride at her transformation. He knew that magic he had tasted could only be the Dragon Jewel. He was vindicated, though this was tinged by a swelling feeling in more than one part of his anatomy for her enjoyment of their flight. She wanted to stay with him! He nearly crowed in joy, but this joy was interrupted by a shriek.

The elleth started to cry at the happiness that her father's forces, combined with the dwarves and the people of Lake Town, had defeated the orcs. She was safe, her father was safe, her dragon was safe!

Mirilas quickly noticed that while she felt the tears being released to roll down her face. Hard pellets fell down her cheeks instead of tears.

Mirilas opened her eyes and caught sight of her faceted arms and a number of little diamonds fall from her face and down her father's back, surprising and frightening her enough to let out a shriek as she broke away from her father to stare at her arms in confusion wonder, though coloured by horror.

"Ada..." she called in a whisper, "What is happening to me?"

Thranduil stepped forward, trying to soothe his daughter with a hand in her hair and the other taking hold of her hands. As she leant into her father's touch and tried to calm down, Mirilas felt heat radiating from her other side.

Her eerily bright eyes turned to her other side to see Smaug's massive head stop to rest on the ground beside her. The dragon's scaled snout gently nudged her before ending up rested against her entire leg, warming her with his presence as he let out a rumble from the back of his throat to vibrate his snout soothingly against her leg.

When Mirilas's tears stopped, she took a deep, shuddering breath and asked Smaug, "What is this? What am I?"

Smaug pressed a mental smile into his elf's mind as he said, " _This_ is the _true_ form of the Dragon Jewel."

Mirilas looked down to her jewelled skin, starting to accept this change. "Can I ever change back?" she asked, looking up at the massive dragon head still pressed against her side.

"I do not now," Smaug responded honestly.

Mirilas nodded before her ears pricked at the sound of approaching footsteps. She and her father turned their heads as one to see Ladinion walking toward them hesitantly, wary of the massive dragon beside them. Bard followed the elf, clearly amazed at the sight of Smaug resting so sedately beside the two elves.

When he reached them, the lieutenant smiled as he bowed. Then, Ladinion said in relief, "Hiril nin." (My lady)

Mirilas smiled lightly in return. "Mae govannen, Ladinion." (Hello, Ladinion.)

Ladinion's smile widened before he bowed again. "Aran nin," (My king) he said next, acknowledging her father.

"What is it Ladinion?" Thranduil asked a little shortly.

"The new camp is set up, and the wounded are being cared for," Ladinion supplied.

"Good," Thranduil said in a dismissive tone. "Go see to my daughter's accomodations."

Ladinion hurried off, eager to make accomodations suitable for the princess.

"Tolthathon i nestar," (I will summon the healer) Thranduil said to Mirilas, stroking her hair briefly. He straightened and turned to Bard to say, "I will return shortly. Stay with her."

Bard did not protest at this command for one simple reason: this was the perfect opportunity to speak with Mirilas, dragon or no dragon.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked once her father had left.

"I am rather tired. I have used a great deal of power today, though I am not so tired as I would have been before...this," Mirilas said simply.

Bard frowned in worry. He walked closer to her to ask more quietly, "Why did you stay?"

"I could not allow your children to lose their lives when there was something I could do," Mirilas admitted.

"Thank you. I believe you saved their lives," Bard said in earnest.

"It was the least I could do," Mirilas returned, shaking her head.

"Mirilas- I-" Bard began.

Before he could continue, Thranduil returned with a healer behind him. "Hiril nin, man trastannen an le?" (My lady, what has happened to you?) the healer asked.

"Apparently, this is my true form," Mirilas answered. Smaug chuckled at her frank tone.

Bard stepped away from the elf princess, moving to leave and get away from the dragon.

However, Thranduil stopped him, saying, "Thank you for saving my daughter."

Bard nodded and said honestly, "It was an honour to help her." He left without another word to help his people settle into Dale.


	48. Chapter 48: Dragons are Coming

Chapter Forty-Eight

Thranduil turned back to his daughter and the dragon once the healer had finished with his daughter once again. The healer had never seen anything like Mirilas's new condition. There was nothing he could do. And according to the dragon, she was supposed to change like this. It had not been wholly unexpected to him. The Elf King wished he had known this was coming, yet he was grateful that this was meant to happen.

Before Thranduil could inquire as to what Mirilas meant to do about the dragon given her wish to fly, Gandalf arrived, walking to them from the plain. "Thranduil!" he called as he approached them and the dragon.

"Mithrandir," the Elf King acknowledged.

"I have spoken with Gwaihir, Lord of the Eagles. He said that the dragons of the North are coming. It will not be long before they arrive," the wizard said urgently.

Thranduil looked at Gandalf sharply while Mirilas looked over at Smaug in confusion. "I thought he was the last," the Elf King said.

"I am not the last," Smaug admitted. The golden eye they could see was trained on his elf.

"Why are they coming?" Mirilas asked without looking away from her dragon.

Smaug let out a great gust of hot air from his nares, sighing. Then, he said, "They mean to take you from me." Fear coursed through Mirilas as she drew closer to the dragon to her father's limited surprise and reluctant acceptance.

"What do we do about them?" Thranduil asked.

"When they arrive, I will speak with them," Smaug said simply.

"That's it?" Mirials asked, stepping away from the dragon back toward her father.

"What would you have me do? I am but one," Smaug said, admitting his inferiority to something for the first time in a very long time.

"How many are coming?" Thranduil asked, looking to Gandalf.

"Three," Mithrandir supplied, remembering what Gwaihir had told him.

Thranduil nodded solemnly and said, "We have one dwarvish windlance and a few black arrows, not enough to kill three dragons."

Mirilas shot a look at her father. "You meant to kill Smaug, did you not?"

"Yes, but I will not if he helps us against them," Thranduil offered.

Mirilas smiled and stood atop her toes to kiss her father's cheek in thanks before turning back to say, "Thank you, Mithrandir."

* * *

"Let's begin," Thranduil said once Bard, Thorin, and Dain had arrived. Thorin was laid out on a stretcher beside them. "There are three dragons heading our way from the North. They mean to take my daughter."

"And that's just awful for you, but if they only want her, why not give them what they want?" Dain asked.

Mirilas flinched into Smaug at the idea. She was atop his back once again and out of sight from the group assembled beside Smaug's large body. This meeting pertained to her as well as the rest, but she wanted to hear their honest opinions of the matter, which they would not all do with her present.

"She is the Dragon Jewel, Dain," Gandalf chided the dwarf, "They could harness her power to destroy all you hold dear!"

"What do we do? We could not kill one dragon, let alone three," Bard said in worry as he wondered whether Smaug would help them against these dragons or join them.

"Smaug will speak to them when they arrive. He thinks he can talk them into leaving," Thranduil said.

"And just how do we know that he won't be joining them?" Dain growled out.

Smaug snarled harshly at the dwarf and said, "I will not let them take her from me!"

Dain raised his hands as though to say he was giving up his suspicions for now. "Well, then," he sighed.

"We will be taking up residence in Erebor as soon as possible," Thorin said, changing the subject abruptly to one with which he was more comfortable.

Everyone else immediately flinched away from the dragon, expecting him to be seriously displeased with this. Instead, Smaug nodded his massive head once and said, "I expected as much."

"What?" Bard asked, nearly laughing in surprise and shock.

Thorin set a smug smile on his face and said, "I will send for my people in the Blue Mountains."

Thranduil frowned and looked up at the dragon. "Do you want something in return?" he asked Smaug. Despite the dragon's eagerness to keep Mirilas at least out of the hands of the other dragons, he was still a sneaky, sadistic bastard. He must be planning something.

"I do, in fact, want something. I want her," Smaug revealed.

Silence reigned. Was Smaug really willing to give up his lair and the treasure within for one elf? Not just an elf, most of them knew. The Dragon Jewel, a treasure unto herself, an elleth of nearly untold power.

Bard was beyond hesitant to agree to such terms as the dragon suggested. Was it not enough that the dragon had chained himself to Mirilas? Now, would she be given up entirely for the dwarves to reclaim their homeland?

Thranduil waited. He wished to know Thorin's and Dain's thoughts of the matter, despite having already decide what he would do about this offer.

Thorin hesitated at the thought. His homeland was so nearly his again, but could he reclaim it at the price of the freedom of the elf he loved? If the dragon were to get her, he would never have another chance with her. Smaug would take her far away, and he would likely never see her again. He was the King Under the Mountain. He owed his people the chance to reclaim their homeland, but he owed his heart the opportunity to be whole. Thorin sighed. He was the King. He had a duty.

"Very well," Thorin answered heavily.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow to the dwarf. "I am afraid that it is not your decision alone. I will not force my daughter to agree to this, not for anything."

Mirilas was very grateful to her father, but she knew what she wanted to do, what she had to do.


	49. Chapter 49: An Offer

Chapter Forty-Nine

"Bilbo," Thorin called the hobbit to his side. The dwarf lounged on a cot in a separate tent near where Dain's healers had been treating their wounded. Bilbo was currently staying with him while his Company was off scouting the Mountain for any latent threats as well as any useful supplies that would make their intended transition to living within the Mountain easier.

"What is it, Thorin?" Bilbo asked, hurrying to the dwarf's bedside from where he had been pacing by the foot of his cot.

"I need you to do something for me," Thorin began delicately. He was still too weak to do much more than sit up in his little makeshift bed. He could not do as he wished. Yet. But Bilbo was just the person to help him accomplish his next goal. "I need you to bring Mirilas to me."

"Thorin, are you sure?" Bilbo asked, knowing the elleth very likely did not want to see Mirilas, and with good reason. Thorin had very well started a war between the elves of the Woodland Realm and the dwarves in an ultimatum demanding her marriage! What better reason was there than that to avoid him? However, he owed Thorin his effort at the very least.

"I am sure. Please, I have a request I would ask of her," the dwarf said, surprising the hobbit. Thorin asking for something? This was nearly unheard of, particularly where it concerned this particular elf. His manner of dealing with her or anyone concerned with her involved unilateral decisions and harsh, though certainly not unforeseen, consequences.

Bilbo nodded and hurried away. It took more than a little convincing as well as trading on his good name in a way he was not entirely proud of, but he returned over an hour later with the elf in question at his side, reluctantly willing to hear Thorin out.

"Thorin," Mirilas acknowledged coldly. Her tone was no surprise. She had sounded much the same when he had said that Thorin had sent him for her.

"Mirilas," he returned much more warmly. "I know our acquaintance did not start well, but I wish to mend our relationship." There. That should be a safe enough way to start.

"Really?" Mirilas asked in surprise. Perhaps the battle had changed him.

"Do you remember when we met?" Thorin asked, clearly leading to some point. From the look of determination in his eyes, Mirilas doubted very much that she could dissuade him from whatever it was that he wished to tell her. Still, she thought she should give him some warning as to his chosen topic.

"That is not the place to start if you wish to mend our relationship," she warned him coldly.

"It is the perfect place. None of this had yet happened," Thorin said, wondering if she even remembered when they had truly first met. If she did, he doubted she would be so resistant. Or not. He seemed to be rather poor at guessing her thoughts. Even Bilbo seemed to have a better understanding of what the elf princess thought.

"Very well. I first remember you saying, 'Take her!'" Mirilas supplied with raised eyebrows to hint at her annoyance with both the topic and with him.

Thorin frowned and shook his head. "We met long before then. You came to Erebor with your father." He remembered the day well. His world had changed forever on that day. Actually, Smaug had come only days later. The dragon seemed to be able to sense her somehow, if his odd behaviour regarding Lake Town was anything to go by. Could it be that _she_ was why Erebor was attacked? No. That was ridiculous. Erebor had a large enough hoard of gold to attract a dragon even without her. It must be a coincidence.

It was Mirilas's turn to frown. "You were there?" she asked in confusion. She knew that Thror's male relatives had been present at the meeting, but had one of them been Thorin?

"Indeed. That first time I saw you, I knew," Thorin said, fairly glowing at the memory. She had been beautiful then, though nothing could be as beautiful as her now. She must be every dwarf's dream: a powerful sorceress in the form of a woman whose skin looked like living diamond.

"Knew what?" Mirilas asked. What could he possibly mean?

"That I wanted you to be mine," he said.

This explained much. For instance, he had already known of her when he had ordered his dwarves to take her and bring her with them. That was why he had refused to let her go.

"And after that, you appeared from nowhere in front of your father's throne," Thorin continued, remembering how her sudden appearance had cooled his ire at her father in an instant.

"You were there?" she asked. She had admittedly been in no condition to look around and see who was present. She had been lucky enough to spot her Ada before she fell unconscious.

"Yes. I knew then that you had power, but I never even dreamed of the sort of power you have shown this day."

"And what do you make of it?" Mirilas questioned coldly. If most of his regard was centred on her power, she wanted nothing to do with him. Then again, was that not the basis of Smaug's regard for her?

"You are magnificent, fit to be a queen," Thorin said warmly.

"What do you mean?" Mirilas asked sharply. Her brother was set to take over the Woodland Realm should their father either fall or pass away to the West. Not her.

"Marry me," Thorin said bluntly.

"What?!" the elleth shrieked.

"Marry me. Be my queen," the dwarf insisted.

"I do not think that-" she started to protest

"I have loved you since I first saw you! Please!"

"But I-"

"You would be free of that dragon!" No. She could not let that happen.

"No, Thorin. I will not marry you," she said firmly, turning to leave before he could say more.

Thorin caught Mirilas's faceted arm in a weak grasp and said pleadingly, "Please. I love you."

Mirilas pulled her arm from his grasp and left, leaving Thorin to stew in his bitterness and rising resentment for who he believed had taken her from him: Smaug.


	50. Chapter 50: More Dragons

Chapter Fifty

Later that day, a cold, harsh wind began to blow in from the North, and with it came three dragons. The flew in fast and low, landing on the plain that lay in front of the Mountain. It became clear when they landed that they had been the cause of this late autumn wind. After touching down, one of them let out a tremendous roar that shook the very stones of Dale, threatening to bring down the entire ruin around the people of Lake Town. In response, Smaug jumped up to glide down from the outskirts of Dale where he had been biding his time to land in front of the three dragons. He was easily as large as the largest of them, which gave Mirilas some hope as she watched from the nearest entrance to Dale.

"Smaug!" the leader called in greeting. They seemed friendly enough, for now... "Where is the Dragon Jewel? We have sensed its presence and come to claim it on behalf of the Dragons of the North!" They were being kinder than usual, Smaug noted. They would not have given any of the puny ones a chance to hand his elf over peacefully. His presence here had likely saved them all, though he doubted many of them would ever understand or acknowledge as much.

"You must be mistaken, Arntauk. The Dragon Jewel is not here," Smaug said guardedly. Perhaps, he could fool them into leaving? They had trusted him before. Could they not do so again?

Arntauk, the leader, growled at Smaug and snapped his jaws. Apparently, there would be no fooling Arntauk. He was old as Smaug, though less cunning. While he likely sensed his elf's presence, he would only threaten and attack to gain her. Diplomacy had been an unknown term since he had taken control from the previous leader of the Dragons of the North Gathzul. If Gathzul was here, Smaug would have no need of the deception. He could have explained the situation and returned to his little elf that waited for him back by the ruins. "We saw the light of its transformation! We know it is here!" Arntauk growled. And so, the threatening began.

Smaug refused to lower his head in deference to the anger of this dragon, regardless of the fact that he used to be Smaug's leader. Or rather, _because_ Arntauk had once been his leader, Smaug felt the need to display his independence from the leader. "I have found the Dragon Jewel, Arntauk. She is here, and I have claimed her!" he proclaimed, making sure that both Varkrir, Arntauk's lieutenant, and Shiznak, the other dragon, could easily hear.

"You have no right to claim it, Smaug!" Arntauk hissed out in warning. Smaug hesitated for only a second at this. Did Arntauk not know their laws? Or, did he seek to change them?

"I have every right! Our laws dictate that a dragon's claim made on treasure _must_ be honoured by the rest of our kind! She is _my_ treasure! I will not part with her!" Smaug spit back, reminding Arntauk that despite being the leader, Arntauk was beholden to the laws set down in the Ancient Times, the same as any of them.

"You will-" Arntauk began to object, but he was interrupted by one of his fellows, his lieutenant Varkrir.

"He is right, Arntauk," the dragon to his left called.

Arntauk whipped his head around to growl at his subordinate in rage.

"Do you intend to flout our laws, Arntauk?" Varkrir snarled fiercely. He had long known that Arntauk had no respect for their laws, but until now there had been little trouble, though thanks only to him and Shiznak for smoothing out the disputes behind Arntauk's back.

Arntauk growled and lunged at his subordinate in anger. Apparently, he would be more trouble than Varkrir had anticipated.

Before Arntauk could reach his lieutenant, Smaug lashed out wish his talons, catching a talon in the raised spikes lining Arntauk's back and holding him back from Varkrir. Arntauk's subordinate took this opening, lunging forward to bite down on Arntauk's neck harshly until he drew blood. Smaug did not let go until Arntauk stopped moving for good, his head very nearly severed.

Smaug waited for the other dragon to spit out Arntauk's neck. After he did, Arntauk's subordinate said with the blood of his leader still dripping from his glistening teeth and the scales under his jaw, "Hail, Smaug, Claimer of the Dragon Jewel!"

"Hail, Varkrir, Leader of the Dragons of the North," Smaug returned, watching the new leader carefully and suspiciously for any sign of foul play. While he was willing to place more faith in Varkrir as leader than Arntauk, he would not risk lowering his guard and losing his elf.

Varkrir briefly lowered his head to Smaug before turning to the other dragon. "Come, Shiznak. We must tell the others."

Shiznak took flight with Varkrir, leaving Smaug behind with Arntauk's corpse and the many two-leggers watching from the perceived safety of Dale. Smaug stared down at the corpse for a few seconds with no remorse. Arntauk had died trying to take his elf from him. This would be the fate of any who tried the same, dragon or no.

Smaug turned back to Dale and jumped to take flight. He aimed for the outskirts of Dale once again, coming in for a landing beside his waiting elf before transforming back to his other form to enjoy his arms around her.

Mirilas came running as soon as Smaug had landed, embracing him tightly. "Are you hurt? What happened?" she gushed, pleasantly surprising Smaug with how forthright she was in her concern.

Smaug nuzzled his nose into her hair as he said, "I am unharmed. Not to worry, my little one."

"Where did they go?" she asked anxiously, breaking away to peer into his face as if searching for some sort of answer to an unasked question.

"Back to my kin beyond the Withered Heath," Smaug supplied, refusing to removing his arms from around her.

"Will they come back?" she asked in fear. He enjoyed the feeling of her petite body as she pressed against him as if for protection.

Smaug clung to her tighter as he said, "No. They will not."

Happiness exploded inside Mirilas. She quickly broke away from the dragon to kiss him soundly, not knowing why she did it. Smaug immediately took advantage of the situation to deepen the kiss and wrap his arms around his elf. He growled into her mouth. Now, she was his.

Mirilas snapped back to reality and backed away from the dragon, staring at him in confusion. What had she just done? And with him? Mirilas ran far from the dragon, searching for her father.

Smaug watched her go. He would give her time. She would understand soon enough.


	51. Chapter 51: The Mountain

Chapter Fifty-One

"The dwarves have their homeland back," Mirilas began, nodding her head at the scene before them. They stood high atop a tower of Dale watching the dwarves break their camp on the plain and transfer all their equipment into the Mountain through the shattered gate. Thorin's Company had led the way to their new residence some time ago. Now, Dain's soldiers handled the transition with a much greater level of organization than Thorin's much smaller Company had managed.

"Yes," Smaug confirmed simply. Despite gaining his elf through this whole business, he watched the dwarves take up residence in his former lair with resignation, frustration, and no small amount of bitterness.

"Your lair," Mirilas continued, sensing some of the dragon's feelings on the matter. If she could get him talking, she might learn more of what he intended to do , or even _if_ he intended to do anything about the loss of his lair. She should have known that trying to trick a dragon was a harder undertaking that required greater skill than she had exerted into her attempt. This was an unwise an unwise undertaking.

"No longer," Smaug said simply, refusing to reveal through hit tone just what he would do to these dwarves if he did not have her. However, she knew now that he did not intend to reclaim the Mountain from the dwarves once they were inside.

"Yes, though I admit I am not sure where to go. There are few places with sufficient treasure and such a comfortably large cavern to sleep," Smaug said as a couple different places came to mind. He would miss that mountain of gold in Erebor. It had been a comfortable bed for over a century, but he would not sleep so long again while he had his elf by his side. He would give her his full attention, as she deserved.

"What does this mean for us?" Mirilas asked, refusing to look at him. Her glowing eyes remained fixed ahead of her sightlessly as she waited in trepidation for his answer.

"Us?" Smaug questioned with a smirk, snaking an arm around her waist. Instead of leaning away from him as she would have only days ago, she leant into his side and pressed her cheek into his arm, keeping her eyes trained on the dwarves far below as they toiled about their work.

"You magically chained me to stay near me! You freed me to help the our armies destroy the orcs! What else would you call it?" she asked with playful anger while her tone barely extended past the contentment she felt at this moment.

"Do you plan to marry the Dwarf King?" Smaug asked, instantly diffusing Mirilas. He would not allow her to tease him when there was a chance that she would try to leave him. His arm tightened around her as if to tell her that he would not let her leave until he had an answer.

"What?" Mirilas asked in confusion. How had he known of Thorin's proposal? To her knowledge, only she and he were aware, though Bilbo might have been waiting outside the tent. It was possible that he knew, and the hobbit could act foolishly when he was well-intended. If he had told Gandalf, who knew who was aware?

"Thorin," Smaug nearly growled. The vibrations of his chest radiated out to shake her a little. The elf took comfort in this feeling. It meant that she was near him, where she wanted to be.

Mirilas laughed a little and assured the dragon, "Of course not! He kidnapped me! I will not turn around and marry the dwarf! No matter that he actually asked me this time!"

Smaug smiled a smile that was considerably lighter than those of his to which she was accustomed. He always seemed to be smirking or smug, not pleased with her as he seemed now. She had had an offer but had not taken it. To him, this meant only one thing. "Then, you are mine," he said, as though the answer was simple and obvious. Actually, in his mind the matter was simple. He had thought that he would only ever lay claim to a female by force. If she would not marry that Dwarf King, he was her other option. A choice he would only give her. Anyone else in her position would not have been given a choice, feigned or no.

"Were you actually giving me a choice?" Mirilas asked, narrowing her eyes at him as though she could see through his games.

Smaug chuckled at the thought. "Perhaps, perhaps not. What does it matter?" And here he was again, never giving her a straight answer if he chose not to. There would be no wringing the truth from him in this.

"Why are you being like this, Smaug?" Mirilas asked, realising that something was wrong with the dragon. What could be bothering him? He had always seemed so imperturbable.

Smaug sighed and looked down at Mirilas. She still did not know.

On impulse, Smaug leaned in to kiss her soundly for a few seconds before breaking away to press their foreheads together, trapping her face in his hands so that she could not back away. "You are mine. Never doubt that," he hissed.

"Your what, Smaug?" Mirilas asked softly, refusing to shut her eyes.

Smaug quickly snaked his arms around his elf's waist as he growled lowly, "My mate."

A small smile spread across his elf's face before _she_ leaned in to kiss _him_. She had accepted! She knew she was his! He would never let her go.

It took then some time to break away from each other, but when they did, Smaug hissed out, "I never thought I would find a mate."

"I never thought I could love a dragon," Mirilas returned lightly.

"Love?" he inquired.

"Yes," Mirilas said as rosy tints bloomed over her faceted cheeks like rose quartz.

Smaug kissed her fiercely once again before saying, "Then, it is settled. I am never leaving you again."

"I'll hold you to that," Mirilas said with a playful smile.


	52. Chapter 52: The Elves Are Leaving

**AN: I will not be updating my story until at least Friday August 11th due to athletic training. Sorry about the wait!**

Chapter Fifty-Two

"I would speak with you, Dragon," Thranduil said.

The Elf King's daughter gave him an odd look before glancing to the dragon beside her.

"Alone," he added in a slightly apologetic tone.

"Be nice, Ada," (Father) Mirilas said lightly, kissing her father on the cheek before walking away from the two.

"You two are close," the Elf King observed in a colder tone, betraying the reluctance he felt for continuing to allow the dragon near his daughter.

"Yes, and it shall continue," Smaug said with a sly look at the Elf King.

"You believe that decision is yours to make?" Thranduil asked coldly.

"Not entirely, but you will not like the consequences if I leave," Smaug replied, his tone matching the frost of the elf's.

"Explain," Thranduil demanded.

"The others only left because I have laid claim to her," Smaug revealed.

"And for that I thank you, but what does that have to do with remaining near my daughter?"

"If any dragon were to come looking for the Dragon Jewel and find her alone, she would be forfeit," Smaug revealed with a pleased smirk.

The coloured drained from the Elf King's face. There was no getting rid of this annoyance that called himself a dragon. Did he plan to take his daughter from him? "Are you looking for a new lair?"

Smaug's smirk widened into a grin. He pretended to look speculative as he said, "I have a place or two in mind..."

Thranduil nearly bristled in anger. This dragon meant for _his_ daughter to live in a cave?!

"Be at peace, Elf King. I intend to allow her some say in where we settle," Smaug said, ending his charade.

"Why?" Thranduil asked, knowing that Smaug was, by nature, more selfish than to allow Mirilas to decide where the she and the dragon were to live.

Smaug considered his next words carefully. This was his mate's father. Among dragons, such a meeting was a rarity. Apparently, this was much more common among two-leggers. Should he tell this Elf King the nature of his relationship with his elf? Would he try to separate them? No. This elf knew now that without him, his daughter would be on her way North against her will. No. He would accept the nature of their relationship. He had no choice.

"She is my mate," Smaug answered.

"Explain," Thranduil said in the most frigid tone the dragon had yet heard from this elf.

"She is the Dragon Jewel, but regardless of that...I would not be parted from her..." Smaug said. He knew not how else he could make this elf understand the nature of his regard for his daughter.

Thranduil was beyond simply annoyed that yet another male was showing an interest in his daughter. There had been that dragon when she was but an elfling, then Elrond's twins when his children had visited Imladris. After that, some of the guard had vied for her attention; they had paid dearly for their interest. After that, Thorin Oakenshield had stumbled into their lives and immediately become a nuisance. Then, there was that man of Esgaroth Bard, though he seemed to understand that there was no hope of her returning his regard. At least, one of them knew their place. And now, here was another dragon, this one saying that she was his mate. Being Mirilas's father had certainly never been boring.

As if sensing the Elf King's anger, Smaug said in a more warning tone, "As long as I live, she is _mine._ And, I _will_ protect my mate!"

Thranduil's head tilted to the side as he studied the dragon. This wa certainly a new side to Smaug. While he had made his intent to claim Mirilas quite clear from the beginning, he had not spokenof her so protectively or so affectionately before. It was rather astonishing that a dragon known so well for his greed and for his cruelty could act like this with his daughter of all people.

* * *

"Thorin!" Gandalf called before striding into the Dwarf King's quarters inside the Mountain.

"Thranduil's army will march for the Woodland Realm tomorrow. Even now, they pack camp in Dale," Gandalf supplied, hoping that this would ease the dwarf's suspicious mind. With the elves gone, the dwarves could begin to settle into their old home without groundlessly fearing an elven incursion.

Thorin was indeed glad that Thranduil was taking his host back to their forested home. However, he suspected that a certain elleth would be accompanying them. "Where will his daughter go?" Thorin asked, failing utterly to conceal the earnest in which he asked this question.

"I would assume that she would accompany her father home," Gandalf said with a frown. Thorin had been acting very strangely since the wizard had returned to the Company, and from what he could gather Mirilas was the reason for it. He had thought that his preoccupation‒ or was it a fixation?‒ with the elf princess would have faded or ended now that he had his homeland, but it had, if anything, grown stronger. He knew that Thorin, who was of the same line as Thror, could be afflicted with the same gold madness that had claimed his grandfather, but this was a curious form for gold sickness to take. Mirilas was an elf, a member of the race that Thorin hated with such passion. Why did he desire her so fiercely?

Meanwhile, Thorin sat grumbling under his breath, trying to think of some way to keep her in the Mountain. If she did not leave, he could have more chances with her. She could learn to love him as he already loved her. He could see her every day, never be parted. But, how was he to accomplish this?

"Thorin, this is a foolish venture. You want what you cannot have," Gandalf warned Thorin when he recognized the greedy glint returning to the dwarf's eyes.

 _But I love her!_ Thorin protested mentally. He could not yet muster the strength to say these words to any save himself or the elleth in question. "Why can I not have?!" Thorin roared.

"Thorin, so long as Smaug is alive, you will never have her. The dragon will see to that," Gandalf warned him. He had seen the way Smaug had looked at Mirilas. There was no hope of separating them now, particularly not in Thorin's case.

Thorin paused, considering the wizard's words. Smaug was keeping Mirilas from him. If Smaug was dead, there would be no one to keep Mirilas from him. He could kill Smaug and take Mirilas for himself!

As if reading Thorin's mind, Gandalf spotted the ponderous look on Thorin's face and warned him, "Do not try to kill that dragon, Thorin Oakenshield. He is what stands between Mirilas and the Northern Wastes." Gandalf realized then just how ironic his statement was. The wizard had sought out Thorin specifically to urge him to kill Smaug out of fear for the dragon's use in the war that would come. Now, here he stood, warning Thorin not to kill Smaug for fear that there would be no protection for Mirilas. _She_ would then be used in the war to come, and she could cause more damage than any one dragon.


	53. Chapter 53: Where Will You Go?

**AN: I'm back! I'll be easing back into updating this story and trying to finish it hopefully within the week! Enjoy!**

Chapter Fifty-Three

Thranduil sought out his daughter late that afternoon, hoping to learn _her_ plan for the future now that he knew Smaug's. The dragon had been particularly, and concerningly, vague on the particulars of his plan. In fact, the only thing the dragon was dead set on for the future was being with Mirilas. His clarity and bluntness regarding this point echoed the vagueness and evasiveness of his other points.

The Elf King found his daughter perched atop one of the high, stone outcroppings of the plaza that led out of Dale to the plain beyond. His wagons were in the centre of the square being loaded with supplies and wounded elves to return to the Woodland Realm. Thankfully, they had arrived on time from their trip back to his homeland, otherwise their return would have had to be postponed beyond what the Elf King was comfortable with.

Silently, Thranduil motioned to Feren, who lounged comfortably in the sun at the base of the stone ruin, signalling for him to move farther off. Feren seemed reluctant to move from his position, though whether it was due to his ease and comfort in that position or his concern over his lady, Thranduil pointedly chose not to guess. Instead, he peered up at the wall, deciding in an instant that he could not maintain his sophisticated and elegant demeanour in climbing up to her side. Luckily for her, she was one of only two people for which he would abandon his dignity.

"Mirilas, sell nin," (my daughter) Thranduil called, motioning for his daughter not to move from her perch. Instead, he easily jumped up the wall to land beside her slightly harder than he would have liked. Only then did he see that the other side was easily climbable. That explained how his daughter had reached this perch. She had never been so good as either Legolas or him at jumping, and though he had reached this height, it had not been an easy jump.

"Ada!" (Father) his daughter returned rather eagerly, leaning into his side. This was one of the moments that Thranduil was glad his daughter was such a daddy's girl. She had always been affectionate with him, as he had with her. He did not want to lose this, lose her. "What brings you here? I would have thought you would be leading our people home, not waiting," she observed, sounding as though she wasg glad that he was there with her rather than on his way home.

"Not this time," the Elf King said simply, wrapping his arm around his daughter as if to assure her that he was still there. However, he knew that this contact was more to assure himself that she was still there, that no one had taken her from him once again.

"Then what?" she questioned, eyes downcast. She knew that her life was changing. She was slowly gaining the freedom she had wanted, but she was not yet fully certain of the cost of her freedom. She had hoped that she could gain some freedom while remaining with her family. Now, though, she was not so sure if that was even possible, particularly not when Smaug was involved.

"I know the dragon intends to stay with you, mirig nin," (my little jewel) Thranduil began delicately, "But, I would know what _you_ wish, sell nin." (my daughter) The dragon had made it clear to him that without Smaug, Mirilas would not last long before she was taken by some other dragon seeking power. At least, Smaug was a known element. This dragon held the promise of his daughter not being taken from him permanently where any other dragon would have taken her and either hidden her away from the world for all eternity or taken her power from her, leaving her cold and dead in some far off land.

"I do not know, Ada..." Mirilas began gently. She knew there was no delicate way to broach her thoughts to her father, yet she loved her father too much not to tell him what she felt in her heart for the dragon.

"Since Thorin...since I left home...I have wanted to return home, but now..."

"You are always welcome at home," he assured her.

Mirilas smiled gently and breathed, "Thank you." However, she took in a breath, hesitating to speak what must come next. "But, Ada, in my heart, I do not know if I want to leave him..."

Thranduil frowned. He had hardly allowed this thought to enter his mind for fear of what it might mean...his daughter leaving him. "Where would you go? Where would _he_ go?" the Elf King questioned, trying his hardest to keep his daughter from hearing in his tone just how much this idea bothered him.

"I do not know...He has said that he knows of a few lairs he could claim, but..." Mirilas explained hesitantly.

"But," Thranduil urged his daughter to continue as he hoped with every fibre of his being that his daughter did not want to leave him.

"I do not know how comfortable I am with living in a cave," Mirilas admitted, sounding rather sheepish.

"Then bring him home with you, sell nin," (my daughter) he urged her. He was too intent on her possibly returning with him to laugh at the very idea of his daughter who had hardly travelled living in a cave.

"You would allow a dragon into our home?" Mirilas questioned. She had been sure that Smaug would never be welcome in the Woodland Realm, no matter his relationship to her. She feared that if her father knew of the true nature of her relationship with Smaug, she would never see the dragon again.

"Not _a_ dragon. Smaug. Your mate," Thranduil said, making it abundantly clear that he would not allow any other dragon into the Woodland Realm, and certainly not under any other circumstances than the very peculiar ones with which they were now faced.

"Oh, thank you, Ada!" Mirilas squealed, throwing her arms around her father. He knew! He knew Smaug was her mate! He accepted them!

"Tell him soon, mirig nin. We leave tomorrow," (my little jewel) Thranduil instructed gently, wrapping his arms around his daughter in gladness that she would not be leaving him yet.


	54. Chapter 54: Attack

**Chapter Fifty-Four**

A dark figure snuck through what little remained of the elven camp. Most of the tents were packed and sent off to the Woodland Realm in great wagons that had arrived earlier that day. The few that remained housed both the royal family and their guard. He did not know why Thranduil had chosen to remain behind in Dale an extra day after his army had left, but it looked suspicious. That Elf King simply must be up to no good.

Soon enough, the figure reached the small tent that stood beside Thranduil's tent. She would be in here, and so would that dragon. That damnable creature had taken everything from once, but not again! It was time.

The intruder drew his sword and silently crept into the tent. Despite no longer being chained together, the princess and the dragon slept in adjacent cots. The princess slept curled over on her side with her hands delicately folded beneath her cheek. Her hair glistened with its own light, scattered by her gem-like skin to illuminate the entire tent in a soft light. The dragon slept sprawled out with splayed legs and one arm reaching toward the princess even in sleep. How dare he!

The intruder raised his sword over head, poised to strike and once and for all kill the dragon that dared take the princess from him. His elvish sword whistled through the air as he brought it down to finally bring down his enemy. Before the sword could strike its target, it was stopped by a shield of blinding white energy. The intruder staggered back, shielding his eyes from the light.

"Thorin?" a familiar voice asked in surprise as the light dimmed so that it was not blinding.

"Miri," Thorin growled in return as he lowered his hand from his eyes. He did not mean to direct his hatred at her but to _him_. However, he could not hide the anger that boiled inside him at having failed to kill the dragon. Now, _he_ would have her! This could not happen. There was only one thing he could do.

Thorin turned to the elf princess, extending his sword toward Mirilas. If he could not kill the dragon, he could still keep Smaug from ever having _his_ princess!

As the sword swung downward again, Mirilas screamed, extending her hands out to shield her face. The sword sank into warm flesh, and blood spilled out from the wound. A body fell to the floor between the dwarf king and the elf princess, leaving them staring shocked at the person between them.

"Feren!" Mirilas shrieked, falling to her knees beside her servant and closest friend. She cradled his head in her hands and carefully placed it on her lap as Feren gasped for breath. Blood gurgled out of his mouth as he quickly bled out from his gaping wound from shoulder to hip onto the floor and his lady.

Mirilas desperately placed her hands over his wound, pouring her magic into healing the wound. The elf sobbed as she pushed more and more of her magic into healing Feren. The wound was closing slowly with flesh knitting to flesh. Even so, blood welled up in his throat, and he gasped desperately for breath.

"My lady," Feren gasped out, eyes wide in urgency and pain as he stared up into the worried, fearful eyes of his lady.

"Hush, Feren. Let me heal you," Mirilas sobbed out, pushing more and more of her magic into healing her friend.

"No, my lady..." Feren said before coughing up blood.

"I _will not_ give up on you, Feren! You mean too much to me!" Mirilas insisted, hands moving up the wound, leaving knitted flesh behind.

"I...I love you..." Feren gasped before blood gurgled up in his throat, and his eyes glassed over. No matter how powerful she was, there were some injuries she could not heal, some things she could not change.

The dragon rose to his feet beside them. His magic surged around him as he realized what must have happened while he slept. His eyes levelled on the dwarf king before him. This dwarf had tried to kill his mate! There was only one way to deal with such foul actions!

"You will _never_ be near _my mate_ again!" Smaug roared as his magic coalesced around himself in preparation for striking out at the dwarf king. There was no doubt in his mind about the extent of the force he should use. This dwarf had been bothering his mate for far too long! He deserved only death!

Thorin raised his sword against the dragon, but that would not save him. Smaug's magic lashed out at the dwarf with a jet of flame.

"No!" Mirilas screamed as she looked up from the now lifeless body of her friend. She was too late to stop him. Thorin's charred body fell to the ground beside the elf princess and her friend's corpse.

Mirilas gasped in disbelief at the sight of the bodies of the men she had known. Her hands flew to her face as she started sobbing again. The sound broke Smaug's concentration, forcing his anger to dissipate as he realized that his mate was distressed.

Smaug raced to his mate's side and gathered her up in his arms, turning her head so that she could sob into his chest. He half expected her to push him away for killing the dwarf, but she only clutched him closer.

"Hiril nin!" (My lady!) Helluin called as he and his twin ran into the tent with drawn swords. Their weapons lowered as they saw the two dead bodies laying beside their princess and the dragon.

"Feren..." Ascar whispered as he realized who one of the bodies was. The other body could hardly be recognized through the charred flesh and clothing, but he must be whoever had killed Feren. "Nai le na Tham ned Mandos, an nost lin dartha le," (May you find your way to the Halls of Mandos, to your kin who await you,) he said quietly, hearing his twin utter a similar hope.

"Go find Thranduil," Smaug instructed them, briefly looking up from his crying mate to the twin guards.

Helluin stiffened, expecting his brother to bristle at the very idea of being commanded by this dragon. Instead, Ascar nodded sadly and ran out of the tent in search of the Elf King. Helluin elected to stay behind. The attacker might not have been alone.

"Who was he?" Helluin asked, peering down at the charred body in search of clues for who the attacker had been.

"Thorin...it was Thorin," the princess responded, briefly raising her head from the dragon's chest. She attempted to sniff away her tears only to begin to sob anew. Her mate cradled the back of her head in one of his large hands and pressed her head back into him, reassuring her with his touch.

"He tried to kill her," Smaug ground out as he gritted his teeth.

There were no words for Helluin's anger at this so-called dwarf king. He had killed his comrade! He had tried to kill the princess! This fiery death was much too fast a fate for the traitor dwarf!


	55. Chapter 55: One Dead Dwarf

Chapter Fifty-Five

Thranduil stood high atop one of the watch towers of Dale as he stared up at the stars twinkling above him. Instead of seeing the bright points of light, memories played before the Elf King's eyes. His elflings played carefree in sunny fields surrounded by ancient trees. They had grown so much since those happy days in his gardens. They could both be leaving him.

Legolas had already decided that he would not be returning to the Woodland Realm. He would seek out Aragorn, the Ranger. His son would do great things with the heir of Isildur.

Mirilas had been overjoyed that the dragon was welcome in the Woodland Realm, but she had not actually said that she would return with him. This terrified him, though he could still find relief in her mate's protection from the other dragons. So long as she was with Smaug, the Dragons of the North could not take her. But, he wanted her at home with him, not living in some distant cave away from the light. Surely, the dragon would not force his mate to live where she did not want!

Thranduil was pulled from his thoughts by Ascar running up to him, looking distressed. "Ascar?" Thranduil called to the guard.

"Aran nin, i Anfang Aran... ho na gorth!" (My king, the dwarf king...he is dead!) Ascar called as he skidded to a stop beside the Elf King.

"Man?" (What?) Thranduil asked in confusion. Thorin's wounds had not been fatal. He had been recovering. How could he be dead? And why was Ascar so concerned? "Togo im an ho," (Bring me to him,) he commanded, dreading what he would find.

Ascar nodded and hurried off back to the tent with the Elf King following close behind. Thranduil's frown deepened as the guard brought him directly to the tent where his daughter and her mate had slept. What had that dwarf dared to do?!

The Elf King could hear crying from inside the tent along with some sort of deep sound not unlike purring. Other than these two sounds, it was silent. Whatever had transpired here was likely over. This did little to relieve Thranduil's worry. He knew the sound of his own daughter's weeping, though he was stilled worried about why she was crying. For all he knew, she was dying.

Ascar stepped into the tent with Thranduil close behind. The first thing he saw inside the tent was his daughter crying into the chest of the dragon, who emitted a deep purring sound like a giant cat. Neither appeared injured. The Elf King would have crossed the room in a single bound to take his daughter into his arms and comfort her as he enjoyed the utter relief that his daughter was still alive.

There were two things stopping him: the two bodies on the floor between him and them. One body was easy enough to recognize, and as he did, he realized why his daughter was crying so. Feren was dead. There was a vicious sword wound crossing his torso. Near the shoulder, flesh and muscle were rended to show bone, while by the hip blood continued to seep out of the wound. Blood did not gush out in pulses from the arterial bleeding, signalling that the elven servant was dead.

The other body was completely blackened. The flesh had melted in areas before being charred to its present condition, leaving the body a gruesome sight. The body was short and stocky, too short to be a man or an elf but too tall and broad to be the halfling. This was a dwarf. This was the King Under the Mountain. And, there was only one way he could have died: dragon fire.

Thranduil sighed and steeled himself for whatever else this night had to offer. For all he knew, Smaug had kidnapped the dwarf king from his Mountain to kill him for crimes against his mate, though he sincerely hoped not. The dragon needed a good reason to kill Thorin, or there would never again be diplomatic relations between either the dwarves of the Iron Hills or Erebor and the elves of the Woodland Realm. "What happened?" he asked, failing to keep his normal aloof demeanour.

"Hain nant Thorin," (It was Thorin,) Mirilas said through her tears. The sound was muffled by Smaug's chest, but Thranduil heard with his superior hearing.

Thranduil walked around the bodies to kneel beside his daughter and her mate to rest a hand on her back comfortingly. "Man nant Thorin?" (What did Thorin do?) he asked gently, rubbing Mirilas's back.

Mirilas hesitated. Smaug noticed his mate's discomfort and placed his lips beside her ear to whisper to her, "Ho adunaegrath le, meleth nin." (He cannot hurt you anymore, my love.) She seemed to gain strength from this.

"Ho maethant Smaug," (He attacked Smaug,) Mirilas began, turning her head to rest her cheek against her mate with her eyes closed. "Thanden ho," (I shielded him,) she continued, squeezing her eyes shut tighter as if to block out what had happened from her mind.

"Ab man?" (Then what?) Thranduil asked gently. The dragon knew what he had risked by killing Thorin Oakenshield, and if he was to defend the dragon against the dwarves, he had to know how and why.

"Ho maethant im," (He attacked me,) Mirilas said with a hollow voice.

Thranduil's teeth clenched in anger as the Elf King wished he could raise the King Under the Mountain from the dead to kill him again for daring to attack his daughter.

Smaug clutched her tighter to him in response, pressing his cheek into her hair as he completed the story for her. "Feren gurthant an hen. Gurthen ho ah naur nin," (Feren sacrificed himself to save her. I killed him with my fire,) the dragon said with fierce eyes.

By now, Thranduil very nearly radiated anger. He rose sharply to his feet and began to pace the tent with a hand clutching the hilt of his sword tightly. He seethed for several minutes as his daughter's tears slowed, though she did not leave her mate's protective embrace.

"You should tell Balin," Mirilas said softly to her father, pulling her father out of his haze of anger. Thranduil gritted his teeth and continued to pace.

Helluin looked to his king and asked, "Should I-"

"Yes," Thranduil interrupted in a hiss, "And Dain."


	56. Chapter 56: Another War?

Chapter Fifty-Six

"What is so important that you had to drag me here in the middle of the night?!" Dain exclaimed as he strode angrily into the tent. Balin followed him with a worried expression. Being summoned back into Dale in the middle of the night from the Mountain was suspicious under any circumstances. Just after they had almost been at war with these same elves, Balin could only assume that some grave matter had come up.

"Thorin is dead," Thranduil supplied frankly, pointing down at the charred remains of the King Under the Mountain.

"What?!" Dain exclaimed as he stared down at the body of his cousin.

"You can't mean..." Balin began, but he could not find the words.

"That was tactful," Smaug snorted sarcastically.

Mirilas hit her mate's shoulder and admonished him, "This is serious!"

"How did he die?" Balin asked as tears began to fall down his cheeks.

"He tried to kill-" Thranduil began.

"Me," Smaug hissed out, interrupting the Elf King. Thranduil raised his eyebrows at the dragon but otherwise did not react. "Which I would have forgiven, but he attacked _my mate_!" The dragon still had not allowed the elf princess to leave the protective, possessive circle of his arms. "He _deserved_ what he got!"

Mirilas clenched her eyes shut in exasperation. "And you thought _he_ wasn't tactful!" she whispered. Because of this, she did not see Dain go from vibrating in anger with all his muscles tensed to grabbing at his war hammer to strike out at the dragon that had clearly killed his cousin and his king.

Smaug, however, noticed the impending strike. He crouched low around his mate, shielding her from Dain. Mirilas felt his sudden movement and threw up a shield to protect them from whatever was coming.

Dain's blow hit Mirilas's shield with a flash of light. After recovering from his failed attack, Dain started to rain down blows on the shield as his anger overtook him.

Smaug noticed this and looked up to the shield protecting them. As he realized that they were in fact shielded from Dain's rage, he saw a chance to rid himself of this other of the line of Durin. The dragon struck out, but his magic glanced off the shield just as Durin's blows were blocked.

"Dain, my Lord, enough," Balin said heavily, placing a restraining hand on the dwarf's shoulder.

"No! He killed my cousin! He deserves to die!" Dain roared, striking with renewed strength in the vain hope of somehow getting through this shield of light.

"Dain, please. Stop this. We hold no ill will for you. Let us have peace," Mirilas pleaded as she placed her hands on her mate's arms, stopping his useless attack.

"My lord, please accept her offer," Balin pleaded. Without Thorin's heir Fili present, it was up to Dain to prevent a battle between dwarves and elves that Erebor might have peace rather than eternal war with its closest neighbours.

"No," Dain growled in fury. "I will not have _peace_! The dwarves of the Iron Hills will never have peace with _you_! Nor with any elf of the Woodland Realm!"

Mirilas held the shield up at Dain's reaction to her offer, fearful of another attack. Smaug sensed this. He knew Dain would not let his cousin's death go unavenged. But, she would shield him. And, he would shield _her_.

"You _will not_ attack the Woodland Realm," Smaug warned in a dark voice. Dain seemed ready to mock him, as though he had forgotten in his rage that Smaug was a dragon and capable of great destruction. Smaug continued, reminding him of just who and what he was, "Or I will _personally_ set your armies _aflame_! As I burned your people in the Mountain!"

Dain paled at the threat. He knew well of the destruction the dragon had wrought in Dale and in Erebor. Could he risk his people, all of his people, to take revenge upon the great wyrm for the death of Thorin? If he attacked, the dragon would surely defeat him. From there, he could easily attack the Iron Hills and destroy what was left of his people. If it were anyone else, he would have attacked, but he could not defeat this foe.

Mirilas stiffened at the reminder that her mate had nearly destroyed a people and set them wandering for over a century without a home. Had she allowed herself to love one such as this? Was she really comfortable living with the man‒ no, the dragon‒ who had exiled an entire people from their home? What did it matter? Her life was forfeit without him. And, he would never allow her to leave him, no matter the cost.

"Enough!" Thranduil called out sharply. He strode forward, placing himself between the dwarves and the couple with a hand pointedly on the hilt of his sword. "You will leave. Take your dead king with you. Perform his burial rites, what have you. There will be no war between the Woodland Realm and Erebor. Take care that you do not start one needlessly between the us and the Iron Hills."

Balin, realising the gravity of the dragon's threat against the dwarves of the Iron Hills and Thranduil's offered escape, quickly took Dain's arm and pulled the dwarf lord from the tent before he could cause further trouble with the pair and possibly alienate the dwarves of Erebor from the elves of the Woodland Realm. This could not be allowed.

Balin paused as he realised then that Thranduil had been quiet this entire time as if allowing his daughter and her dragon to dictate his alliances. Perhaps, she was to be queen? But, did it truly make a difference whether the Woodland Realm was on good terms with the Iron Hills or not? They did not trade. They kept little, if any, contact. Erebor was another matter. In these fledgling days, the dwarves living in the Mountain would rely upon the elves' and the men's friendship and good will, even with their vast hoard of gold. If they had no one with which to trade, their gold would be useless.


	57. Chapter 57: A Night Stroll

Chapter Fifty-Seven

"You should sleep," Smaug said gently, swooping up his mate into his arms.

"I don't want to sleep anymore, Smaug," Mirilas said, struggling in his arms.

"Come, now, my little jewel. You have been through much tonight," the dragon said, catching her arm and placing it around his neck. He held her close to his chest, cradling her more carefully than he would his most precious possession.

"I won't be able to sleep now, Smaug," Mirilas said, resting her head against her mate's chest. The elf sighed and closed her eyes before asking, "Will you take a walk with me?" She hoped that her tone had hidden her tiredness. She could not bear to sleep again tonight, not when Thorin had come in her sleep and tried to kill them.

The dragon sighed and carefully set the elf on her feet again. Smaug offered her his arm before wrapping her arm around his arm to keep her close to him. As he led her to the entrance of the tent, the dragon noticed that his mate's guards were following them. He should not have been surprised that they would accompany their charge everywhere after yet another night attack. It seemed that no one would dare attack the princess in the light of day, choosing instead to attack under cover of darkness when she was less protected.

The couple set off to walk through the ruins of Dale with the twin guards trailing behind them. Only the rustle of fabric and the ethereal shine of the Dragon Jewel's hair and eyes betrayed the group's presence as they walked under the stars. She shone like a beacon, but who else but Thorin would be so foolish as to attack them now?

Smaug carefully led his mate through Dale as he kept his body pressed against hers to reassure himself that she was still with him, still alive. That foolish dwarf had tried to separate him from his mate, and for that he deserved to die. Now, he was free to live with his mate for all eternity. Wherever she would go, so would he. He would always be there to protect her from everything.

Mirilas stared off sightlessly as her mate guided through the ruins. It did not seem real to her that Thorin had been killed. She had not known him for long, but he had been so strong, so capable. Despite making a nuisance of himself to her and to her family, she had no desire for him to die. Beyond being a person and therefore deserving to live, Thorin's death would not make her life simpler. True, he would no longer be around to try to break them up and marry him, but the current situation between her people and the dwarves showed that her life was no simpler or easier without Thorin in it. Despite the trouble he caused in her life, Thorin was better off alive above all so that he might lead his people.

However, she should have expected that Thorin would try to kill Smaug. Thorin seemed so dead set on marrying her, and even in his deranged state of mind, he could tell that her mate was the main obstacle between them. The next obstacle (and the only other significant one keeping them apart) was her father, but Mirilas doubted Thorin had planned so far ahead as to have a plan to kill both her mate and her father. As it was, Thorin had failed to take into account who exactly he was attempting to kill and what exactly he and she were capable of. It had been his downfall.

Smaug had been so furious when Thorin had attacked her. Both the literal and figurative heat of his anger had forced her to remember just what her mate had done. Those same flames had killed so many dwarves in that Mountain, taking their home from them. Such actions made her wonder if Smaug had really changed so much. He had done such horrible things before. What was to say he would not do so again? She doubted she could remain with him if he did such an awful thing.

It was then that Mirilas thought back to Smaug's threats. He had threatened to kill the armies of the Iron Hills. That in itself was no surprise. Smaug had no love for the dwarves. In fact, it seemed as though he looked for reasons kill more of their kind. However, the dragon had said he would be protecting _the Woodland Realm_ from Dain. How could he protect her and her home from the dwarves and Dain without living there? Did he know that he was welcome there with her?

"Smaug, how would you like to have a home?" Mirilas asked suddenly, pulling her mate from his enjoyment of being near her.

"What do you suggest?" the dragon asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied his mate's face for a hint at what she could possibly be thinking.

"Stay with me, in this form," Mirilas said, placing her hands on his shoulders for emphasis. The jewel-like facets of her hands pressed into his muscular form with a gentle pressure.

"If that will make you happy," Smaug said with a nod. He frowned again, unsure of what exactly she was suggesting. Had she set her mind on a place that she wished to live? He could only hope it would be suitable for him as well.

"Then stay with _me,_ in the Woodland Realm," Mirilas offered hopefully. Her unnaturally bright, green eyes stared up into his sharp, black eyes with hope and love.

Smaug's mouth turned up into a smile at her offer. His expression passed through the cruel grin to which she was so accustomed before settling in a loving smile. "How else would I protect you and your home?" he asked as he pressed their foreheads together with a firm pressure.

"Thank you," she said softly before kissing him gently, turning her head so that their noses did not bump.


	58. Chapter 58: A Last Goodbye

**There will be a sequel!**

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Balin walked through the halls of Erebor, enjoying the sounds of life rather than destruction. This dwarves kingdom would recover. He would see to it. He only regretted that Thorin would never see it.

A figure too small to be one of Dain's army came around the corner in front of Balin with a pack slung over his back. There was a shield peeking out from behind the figure's back as well, likely from the treasure hoard or some forgotten armoury. The cloak looked to have seen better days. Now, it was worn and faded from much use. He knew that cloak.

"Bilbo!" Balin called, hurrying over to the hobbit.

"Balin," Bilbo returned in recognition. "Do you know what's going on?" the hobbit asked, gesturing to the dwarves bustling about the halls much more busily than even the day they had entered the halls.

"Ah, yes, I do..." Balin began hesitantly.

Bilbo, sensing the dwarf's discomfort, asked, "What is it, Balin? Is something wrong?"

Balin looked down regretfully to gather his strength. Bilbo had been as much a member of the Company as any of them. He deserved to know. "Thorin is dead."

"What?! B-b-b-but... _how_ , Balin?!" Bilbo blubbered as he unsuccessfully fought back tears.

Balin sighed. Bilbo was not a dwarf. He was a member of the Company, so he deserved to know the truth, but how could he tell the hobbit what Thorin had done? "Thorin did something foolish...very foolish, indeed...And he paid the price for his actions..."

"He did something to Mirilas, to the elf princess, didn't he? Did Thranduil kill him? Or Smaug?" Bilbo asked through his tears. He knew that she was one of a few topics on which Thorin refused to compromise. If he had met his death now that he had reclaimed the Mountain, it could only be her.

Balin breathed in to strengthen himself before nodding sadly. Bilbo nodded in return, accepting Thorin's actions. He had been stubborn, and the hobbit had known that Thorin's stubbornness would get him killed one day. He had only hoped that that day was far off rather than waiting at the end of their journey.

"There is to be a great feast tonight. Songs will be sung. Tales will be told, and Thorin Oakenshield will pass into legend," Balin said.

"I know that's how you must honour him, but to me, he was never that. He was...To me...He was..." the hobbit tried to say. His voice kept breaking at the thought of his fallen comrade and leader. How could he put into words what Thorin meant to him when he did not know?

Thankfully, Balin seemed to understand what Bilbo felt of the Dwarf King. The aging dwarf nodded in understanding, keeping tears from his eyes for what seemed the hundredth time since he had seen his king's charred body on the floor of that tent. Instead of speaking again about his King, Balin asked, "Shall I accompany you to the gate?"

Bilbo wiped his tears away while nodding. "That would be lovely," the hobbit said, "Gandalf said he would meet me at the gate."

"You'll be returning home?" Balin asked as they began to walk.

"Yes, to the Shire," Bilbo said, smiling weakly though fondly. They continued to walk in companionable silence, neither not knowing quite what to say but enjoying what could well be their final moments together.

The gate was now in sight. They could see daylight beyond the crumbled stonework that led out to the plain and to Dale, where even now the people of Lake Town were rebuilding their homes and their lives.

"Will you tell the others I said goodbye?" Bilbo asked in a sad tone.

Balin paused as they reached the gate and said, "You can tell them yourself."

Bilbo paused in his step and turned back to Balin with a questioning look. Beyond Balin, the remains of the Company stood all in a row just inside the gate, each and every one still in their armour.

Bilbo walked toward the dwarves with a bittersweet smile. What could he say to them? How could he say what this journey had meant to him? He was a hobbit, and above all, there was one thing he could offer them: hospitality. "Uh, if any of you are ever passing Bag End, uh...tea is at four. There's plenty of it...You are welcome any time."

The dwarves all nodded to their companion with smiles on their faces. They had lost so much, but the hobbit had helped them most nobly. He deserved far more than their gratitude, far more, it seemed, than they could repay.

"Uh...Don't bother knocking," Bilbo finished, at which the dwarves chuckled, as did someone standing behind them.

Bilbo frowned and turned to find Gandalf waiting with a horse at his sight. Gandalf nodded to the hobbit before turning to Balin to say, "The elves left during the night. It seems Thranduil is in a hurry to return to the Woodland Realm." And he knew why. Upon learning that Thorin was dead and that Smaug considered Mirilas to be his mate, the wizard had known that while there would be peace between Erebor and the Woodland Realm, the elves would not be in contact for some time yet. Thranduil would return his daughter to their home and settle her mate somewhere in the forest to be near the elf princess. They would go on as they always had.

"Small wonder," Balin returned, "What with what happened to Thorin..."

Gandalf nodded sorrowfully. "I had feared this would happen...I am most sorry for his death..."

Balin nodded thankfully to the wizard but did not speak. It seemed there were no words for their current situation.

"Farewell, my dear dwarves," Gandalf offered as Bilbo made his way over to the wizard. All the dwarves stayed to watch the hobbit of their Company and the wizard that had helped them ride away from their Mountain. They rode out on the plain, passing the newly populated Dale as it was being rebuilt and then over the horizon back toward Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains beyond.


End file.
